


Sons of the First Order

by ColliderOfHadron



Category: Kylo Ren/Rey - Fandom, Reylo - Fandom, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars The Force Awakens, star wars the last jedi
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Coup d'état, F/F, F/M, Gay Smut, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Prison Escape, Reylo - Freeform, Reylo HEA, Rioting, Slow Burn, Swearing, Violence, canonverse, funny in places, gritty in places, swearing not always canon, trial
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-06-26 12:36:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 47,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15663354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColliderOfHadron/pseuds/ColliderOfHadron
Summary: Six months after the Battle of Crait, Hux overthrows Kylo and puts him on trial, but not everything goes to plan. In the space of 24 hours, the lives of both men are turned upside down and their hatred for each other reaches new levels.Will Rey manage to save Kylo? Will Kylo throttle Hux before the day's through, and just who's stirring up so much trouble aboard the Finalizer?





	1. Captured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kylo's fed up with everything and everyone as he starts the day that'll change his life...
> 
> This is the first fic I've ever written and it wouldn't have been possible without the help and encouragement of amazing people. Thanks, @darthbutterfingers, for beta editing (even though you didn't ask to do it!), and @miranda13ao3 for the sweet encouragement that gave me the confidence to write this. 
> 
> You should check out their awesome stories on AO3 too.

**Day 1 – 07.30 GST**

Kylo Ren was sick.

Sick of tedious meetings, sick of administration, sick of Hux persistently snapping at his heels. Sick of the First Order.

Exhausted by the sheer weight of leadership, suffering with the hopelessness of being completely and utterly alone. He’d had enough of everything.

Prior to his supremacy, the only reaction he'd elicited was overwhelming fear - as if he were an unnatural creature haunting the shadows, a threatening malevolence hovering on the peripheral edge of power.

But now, as Supreme Leader, he had to be acknowledged. Everything he did was under unrelenting scrutiny. Even his most mundane journey was now heralded by the marching boots of his guards; he could no longer casually slip into anonymity whenever he felt like it. Staff leapt to attention whenever he passed, whispers chased him in the passageways. Nervous officers, obsequious statesmen, disapproving generals...they all approached him in corridors, in meetings, on the bridge, the viewing platforms – demanding, imparting bad news, cajoling.

These days, he avoided leaving his quarters unless it was absolutely necessary.

His unwelcoming suite was surprisingly modest for the Supreme Leader of the Galaxy. He spent very little time in the uncomfortable living area, opting to use his bedchamber for catching up on paperwork, watching the occasional holo, eating or reading.

Occasionally, he'd snatch random feelings from the jedi girl whose far-away existence continuously taunted him – waves of sadness, mostly, but sometimes it would be formidable fury, glorious warmth or, from time to time, powerful blasts of yearning, intense enough to stop him in his tracks.

Other than these infrequent fragments of contact, Kylo’s time in his chambers passed entirely alone, devoid of company or conversation.

Sleep eluded him most nights. He frequently lay awake for hours, unable to drift off, or incapable of staying asleep once he’d finally surrendered. His bedsheets undulated and coiled erratically as he writhed beneath them, beleaguered by residual thoughts from the day or urgent problems that needed addressing - the sort that involved the lives or livelihood of entire planets. Or, sometimes, he was kept awake by the swirling emotions induced by his beautiful ghost. Whatever the cause, each new morning brought reduced motivation and increased malfunction.

On this particular day, Kylo had been viciously torn from slumber by a sudden and intense spike of fear through the bond, followed by absolute stillness, causing him to suddenly bark her name in desperation. Gasping convulsively, he struggled to disengage himself from the tangle of his sheets, sweat still beading on his creased brow. A small groan escaped his throat as he buried his head in his pillow. He was used to waking up like this after dreaming of her, but not in quite the same way.

He slowly sat up as he frantically tried to determine what may have provoked such panic from her. Something felt _off_.

Still panting slightly, and with the force swirling violently around him in trepidation, he had no difficulty rising out of bed today. He was still pacing his bedchamber when breakfast arrived, and he picked at it without enthusiasm as he continued his desperate attempts reach her. To ascertain what had happened, assess her wellbeing, check she was still alive. He had never felt this much... _nothing_...coming from her before.

The shrill sound of an alarm jabbed its way into his consciousness and he absent-mindedly glanced at his datapad – he had to leave for his first meeting in five minutes. He dressed carelessly, almost as an afterthought, and grabbed his lightsaber - his accomplice - on the way out.

________

**08.55 GST**

Sighing heavily, he opened the door to leave his chambers. Frustration and concern mingled disagreeably with his annoyance at having to focus his attention elsewhere. He scowled at the pale-faced assistant waiting outside his room, ready for duty with her datapad clenched in trembling hands. His guards saluted, bodies rigid, with deferential gazes directed straight ahead.

He ignored them all as he initiated a fast-paced procession towards the meeting rooms, his cape billowing majestically behind him. The assistant’s legs pumped like furious pistons as she tried to catch up with him, breathlessly briefing him about the meeting. He tried to raise interest in the topic matter as he listened, but the subject of honouring financial commitments to arms dealers did nothing to improve his spirits.

He was well aware of the colossal financial losses sustained by the destruction of the Supremacy and its fleet six months ago, he knew about backers withdrawing funds after Snoke’s suspicious demise. He was also painfully conscious of his own unpopularity and his apparent inability to entice further investors. He was really not in the mood to be reminded of it again.

“Who’s attending the meeting?” he muttered over the echoing footsteps of his armoured entourage, fists clenching tensely within his thick leather gloves.

“Two representatives from the Sonn-Blas Corporation and one from BlasTech Industries,” the woman panted.

“The arms manufacturers?”

“Yes, they supply all our stormtrooper weapons. General Hux will also be attending,” she continued, “as will General Kennedy, Lieutenant Ho and Captain Phasma.”

Kylo swore under his breath. This was getting worse - these officers were all fiercely loyal to Hux, and it wasn’t the first time the irritating general had deliberately selected officers with whom he, Kylo, had dreadful or worsening relationships.

His own supporters within the higher ranks had slowly been disappearing, along with anyone who'd openly shown him any dedication; all had been replaced by staunch Hux loyalists. He knew what the snake was up to. Since Snoke’s death, the First Order had been a revolving door of personnel.

Kylo snorted. Short of killing every single member of the First Order and replacing them with new blood, brainwashed to support him, there was no way he could regain control now. Hux, on the other hand, clearly had no compunction about employing such atrocious tactics.

Kylo was barely holding on to the leadership, and he was accumulating more of his own blood beneath his torn fingernails with every attempt to retain his grip on its vanishing mantle.

He continued to march onwards with burning indignation. The meeting room was now in sight, its large double doors looming ahead at the end of a long T-shaped corridor. Kylo’s head throbbed as his force perception still screamed at him, a maelstrom of sensory overload frantically encircling him. But, shining weakly through it all smouldered a sudden and almost imperceptible hint that _Rey was still alive_.

Instantly honing in on the thread of hope with unprecedented intensity, Kylo’s lack of focus on his surroundings meant he only just sensed the trap in time.

The guards behind him in the corridor swiftly raised their blasters to his head, just as hordes of stormtroopers stepped into view, pouring in from both sides of the passageway’s ‘T’ section in front. Floating droids speedily rolled in like deadly storm clouds and hovered menacingly above him.

Kylo instantly wrenched his thoughts from Rey, his mindset rapidly changing to one of abject murder.

Before armoured fingers could finish pressing triggers, he'd conjured an enormous force blast of such magnitude it resembled the detonation of a monstrous bomb. Ejecta comprising stormtroopers, weapons, droids, walls, doors, floor tiles and lighting sockets were violently repelled from the source of the explosion, who now stood alone at the centre of it all. Head pounding and ears ringing from the deafening boom of destruction, Kylo cautiously made his way over to what had formerly been the 'T' junction in the corridor, oblivious to the snapping and splintering beneath his feet as he traversed the unstable landscape of debris. The glow of his lightsaber was heavily dampened by the vortices of grit and dust particles still circulating in the air, stinging his eyes and parching his throat as he cast out in the force. Flexing his fingers, he sensed another onslaught.

In rolled scores of droideka, bumping easily over fallen soldiers and shattered wall panels, hissing noisily as they rapidly unfolded to reveal their hidden weapons. Kylo had always admired these lethal machines, but knew they were no match for him. However, just as he raised his hand to blow them back where they came from, he realised that their weapons weren’t engaged and he remembered that droidikas _don’t hiss_.

The effect was instant. As gas streamed from canisters lodged within the droidikas’ machinery, Kylo fell backwards, limbs paralysed and senses inebriated. Through rapidly blurring vision, he discerned a face peering down at him. Despite the translucent lenses of the man’s protective mask, Kylo was able to clearly identify Hux.

The last thing he remembered was his hated rival’s eyes creasing in the corners, no doubt the result of the most self-satisfied, shit-eating grin known in history of the galaxy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope it wasn't too awful...
> 
> We'll see what ridiculousness Hux is up to in the next chapter, where it starts to kick off.
> 
> Your comments are welcome here - I'm new to writing and would love to know how this all comes across.
> 
> Shirl :)


	2. Restrained

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kylo is unconscious, Hux has cheeky thoughts and Phasma is unimpressed.

**Day 1 - 09.20 GST**

Hux had been waiting for this day for a very, very long time. It would appear that the months spent scheming and plotting had paid off - the pathetic man had gone down surprisingly easily, with very little damage to the ship. It was almost as if he’d given up. Hux smirked. He _knew_ the brute had gone soft.

He glanced smugly at his masked officers and gave the signal to commence the next stage.

Although he’d planned everything meticulously, things could still go horribly wrong. Despite the satisfaction and relief now washing over him, the general found he was actually shaking slightly as he watched the unconscious beast now being lifted with some difficulty onto a repulsorlift gurney. The battle was far from over yet.

As soon as Kylo had hit the ground, his troops had blasted him with enough plasma energy to stun a whole herd of happabores, but no one could estimate how long the effect would last on a man possessing the unnatural powers of Kylo Ren. The idiot’s wrists and ankles had immediately been force-cuffed and he was now being firmly strapped tightly to the gurney as it hovered at waist height, a battery of blasters still trained in his direction.

A thumbs-up from a specialist division officer signaled that the air was now safe enough to breathe again and everybody removed their protective masks. Hux was relieved to be rid of the dreadful appendage and its cloying grasp around his face.

He suddenly relished the newfound freedom of being able to openly observe the fallen savage without fear of reprisal. His eyes roamed freely over the hulking frame laying helpless before him, greedily taking in the surprisingly boyish face and delicate features, unveiled now that the man's trademark scowl had dissolved into the innocence of slumber. This unprecedented vision - his rival horizontal and at his mercy – was just too delicious to ignore.

Excitement now gleefully coursed the pathways of Hux's body as he slowly leaned towards the unconscious form, stopping as his lips hovered perilously close to the plush entrance of the man’s slightly open mouth. He shivered slightly as he inhaled the distinctly male scent radiating from the solid figure at his fingertips, having never before achieved such close proximity.

“General Hux. We’re ready to go, sir,” Captain Phasma announced, with her usual cold detachment.

Hux immediately snapped out of his reverie. He hastily stood to his full height, erect and upstanding in the face of her scrutiny.

“Very good,” he barked. “Take him away.”

He watched as the stormtroopers prepared the gurney to leave. “I’ll see you later, Ren,” he said under his breath.

The well-rehearsed coup hadn’t factored in a period of respite but his _real_ moment of glory was scheduled for later that afternoon. No one would miss him if he excused himself a short while…

“I’ll be in my chambers,” he called to his captain, before stalking down the corridor in some haste.

____________

**09.30 GST**

Captain Phasma stepped in to assume control and immediately ordered soldiers to take the gurney down to the new Enforcement Suite, choosing the longest and most public route possible.

First Order staff, no matter how senior their rank, were used to regular displays of gratuitous violence or outrageous actions that were to be ignored, if they knew what was good for them. Despite rigorous discipline and conditioning, fights frequently broke out among the work force and the mess halls constantly susurrated with the whispers of gossip - who attacked who, which stormtrooper succumbed to post traumatic stress, the unbalanced general whose nervous breakdown caused the comms room to be evacuated. The volatility and frailty of the atmosphere aboard the giant battleship was both ignored and provoked by Hux and his brutal punishment programme, not to mention Phasma’s efficient ability to “disappear” people. This was part of life aboard the galaxy’s space-bound seat of power.

But, despite being desensitised to these frequent outbursts, witnesses would never forget the macabre parade that was currently winding its way along the endless corridors of the Finalizer. The seemingly lifeless body of the Supreme Leader floated soundlessly, a ruined beast chained to a drifting coffin, his black cape hanging languidly over one side of the gurney as it dragged along the ground like an enormous broken wing. Kylo Ren's prone body was surrounded by a phalanx of stormtroopers on every side, their weapons attentively trained on him should rise from the dead and, to the rear of the cortège, a lone soldier anxiously carried the infamous cross-guarded lightsaber as though it might immolate him at any moment.

Marching ahead of the procession loomed the towering figure of Phasma, in her element as the deadly Master of Ceremonies as she led the ominous cavalcade down to hidden depths of the ship.

The bizarre spectacle shocked onlookers into silence, temporarily halting their endeavours and stealing the colour from their faces as they watched.

However, once the procession eventually reached the new Suite, the mood changed rapidly. No longer under watchful eyes, any portrayal of ceremony promptly disappeared. Kylo was brutally shoved off the hovering gurney onto the base of a cage and abandoned as quickly as if he were contagious. Nobody took any notice of the sickening thud as he hit the floor.

________

**10.30 GST**

Phasma considered Hux’s decision to miss the parade to be the height of foolishness.

She was the only person of rank left in the room and it therefore became her responsibility to activate the shields of Kylo’s prison cage. She turned to the stormtroopers waiting outside the room, casually barking an order at them as she turned to watch the cage’s blue screen stutter to life. Its glow reflected dazzlingly off the shining chrome plates of her customised armour, illuminating her so that she resembled a giant adornment as she stood, motionless, before the cage.

She regarded the fallen leader on the ground, now slightly obscured by a flickering veil of ionised electrons. She'd always admired how terrifying and commanding he’d looked as he stormed the corridors of the Finalizer, but he now just looked broken and vulnerable.

Right at that moment, the last of Kylo’s loyalists were being rounded up and summarily executed, whether stationed on battleships or First Order outposts. And earlier that day a special ops team had finally managed to secure the capture of a very important Resistance terrorist.

Kylo Ren’s leadership was over. He'd been unable to to keep up with Hux’s ruthless slice-by-slice bid for domination, and therefore deserved total political decapitation.

Not that Hux was much better, she mused. He may be an excellent military strategist, but he was also cowardly and psychotic. Five minutes into power and he was already running off to his chambers, just as Ren had done on more than one occasion. She thought they were supposed to put something in the water to control that kind of thing.

Sons of the First Order did not make good leaders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Kylo wakes up in a courtroom. Do you think Hux will give him a fair trial?
> 
> I'd love to hear your comments - food for the soul of writers everywhere!
> 
> Thanks to the wonderful @darthbutterfingers and @miranda13ao3 for doing such a such a brilliant job of rescuing my story from being a bit boring and @darthbutterfingers for fantastic editing and not standing for all my nonsense. I'd buy you both a drink, but you're on the other side of the world from me!


	3. Deposed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kylo and Hux really don't like each other, do they. But it's trial day for Kylo, and Hux is very excited about it.

**Day 1 – 13.20 GST**

 

Pain dragged Kylo back to consciousness in stages. At first, it was the excruciating pain in his arm that heaved him out of stupor. Then the churning nausea, followed by the fierce pounding inside his head...

 

After what seemed like an aeon spent trying to master his pain, he was finally lucid enough to make a thorough survey of his surroundings and, from his lateral position on the floor, he grimly noted that he lay confined within the flickering blue boundaries of a force cage.

 

Partially immobilised by the pain searing his arm and shoulder, Kylo used his good arm to raise his upper body and look past the buzzing shields to assess the room beyond. He squinted across the cavernous expanse of polished flooring, only able to discern the vague outline of a large platform, which boasted a grand, imposing podium at its midst. Wrapped around the circular walls of the vast room climbed multiple rings of seating, rising to heights beyond Kylo’s restricted range of vision, and he snorted derisively as he realised it was a courtroom. The room looked and smelled very new, as if its construction had only recently been completed. The cost of building the entire ensemble would have been astronomical, Kylo mused, and he was certain it had all been built to Hux’s specifications.

 

He wondered whether he was still aboard the Finalizer, or whether this ridiculous folly had been built within one of the First Order's terra firma strongholds.

 

As his eyes scanned the pristine room, he noticed the stormtroopers positioned at various points throughout the room, all regarding him warily, blasters focused. Impeded by pain and restrictive cuffs, Kylo struggled to sit up properly, his attempts achieving nothing but overwhelming, gripping nausea. Four things became apparent to him as he lay gagging on the floor: it was likely that he had concussion, he’d dislocated his shoulder, his force sensitivity was dampened, and that bastard, Hux, had tried to overthrow him.

 

A burst of righteous indignation suddenly surged through him, flooding his veins with a rage that trampled contemptuously over his torment. Fuelled by furious energy, he rose unsteadily to his feet just the courtroom door hissed open. Through the translucent haze of the prison walls, he was unable to identify the majority of faces now streaming endlessly into the room, but he definitely recognised the distinctive red hair of the man approaching his cage. 

 

Hux made no attempt to suppress his glee as he strutted cockily towards the miniature prison, careful not to get too close. He snorted tauntingly as he observed the brute’s dishevelled appearance and limp arm. “Well well well,” he crooned, “not quite so impressive now, are you?”

 

“You will _pay_ for this, Hux. I'll  strangle you with my own bare hands, and we’ll see who looks impressive _then_!” Kylo sneered, with a stare that conveyed cold fury.

 

His gaze scolded Hux as he slowly reached out to touch the glowing wall of electrons, prompting the surrounding stormtroopers to raise their weapons in a flash of white armour. A silent snarl curled his lips as blue arcs of electricity danced up his arm, bucking his body slightly as his muscles spasmed, but his hand remained connected to the shield. The blazing agony and fury in Kylo’s glare rooted Hux to the spot, causing the general to squirm uneasily within his beautifully starched uniform.

 

Without breaking eye contact, Kylo gripped his left arm with his right hand and pulled it into an unnatural angle, before rotating it with an abrupt jerk, groaning as it popped sickeningly. He finally relinquished his contact with the cage and staggered backwards, sinking unsteadily to his knees just before he hit the other side of the prison.

 

Both shaken and fascinated, Hux looked down at the creature now kneeling on the ground. His eyes drank in the broad shoulders still jerking from the aftershocks of pain, the dark hair that clung to the sheen of sweat across the man's defiant face, the plush lips that panted through the spasms. A high pitched noise escaped from deep within Hux's throat, and the unexpected sound suddenly pulled him back into focus. “We’d better get started,” he said quickly, clearing his throat as he turned to walk over to the platform. A hasty glance at the silent court assembly confirmed that they were still gaping in horror at Kylo's disturbing behaviour.

 

Striding over to the platform, he nodded at his saluting officials. “At ease!” he ordered, and they obediently took to their seats upon the stage. He climbed the few steps at the side of the mighty podium and breathed deeply. This was _his_ time and he would _not_ let Kylo’s bestial antics ruin it.  Quickly regaining his purpose, he wasted no time launching into his opening speech.

 

“Lords and Ladies of the Grand Jury, members of the galactic judiciary and magistrates representing the Core Worlds, may I welcome you to our new Detention Suite, completed only last week.” His amplified voice still echoed around the room as he paused momentarily, before continuing, “I...”

 

A sudden collective gasp from the audience snatched the words from Hux's lips as a spark of blue flashed in his peripheral vision, and his head whipped round to face the culprit. Crackling electricity snaked the contours of Kylo’s hand, having just smacked the cage’s shields, as the brute cast a furious gaze around the room, his lip curling. “So, _this_ is what you’ve been spending all the credits on?”

 

Hux pursed his lips. He would not let himself be intimidated by this moron. He smiled and waved his hand in an expansive gesture. “Yes, ” he replied sarcastically. “I had it built right under your, er, abnormally large, nose. Just wait til you see what _other_ surprises I have in store for you. ” This garnered a few titters, but the glassy-eyed terror from the man taking notes on his right stopped him gloating any further.

 

“I shall now commence the trial of Kylo Ren, who claims to be the current Supreme Leader of the Galaxy,” Hux said dramatically, stiffening his spine authoritatively.

 

“Kylo Ren,” he commanded, deadly serious now. “You are hereby charged with treason, for the murder Supreme Leader Snoke, and for conspiring with a known enemy of the First Order.” He glanced again at the assembled court. “May I present to you evidence of the defendant’s collusion with a member of the Resistance, recorded some six months ago.”

 

“You have nothing on me!” Kylo fumed, before Hux could proffer his next statement.

 

“Shut up, Ren. You’ll get your chance,” Hux muttered.

 

“Oh yes, _I’ll_ get my chance...” Kylo threatened.

 

“I said, SHUT UP!” Hux yelled back, standing abruptly and leaning over the podium’s lectern as he bellowed. The members of the assembly fell into an uneasy silence at this latest display of uncontrolled loathing, with many eyes begging him to refrain from antagonising the fearsome Kylo Ren. They watched the prisoner with mounting apprehension as the sound of Hux's screeching command chased its echo across the walls of the courtroom. However, a woman seated in one of the lower circles tutted loudly, apparently impervious to the dangerous undercurrent disturbing the atmosphere. Hux glared at her but, for the sake of his reputation, he consciously resolved to rein in his anger. Damn Kylo - he always brought out the worst in him.

 

He nodded curtly towards a young woman standing at the side of the podium and the main lights dimmed immediately. A greatly enlarged holo image flickered to life at the centre of the room, bathing faces and surfaces alike in a cool shade of blue as the stuttering projection settled into a solid image.

 

The court watched with rapt attention as the vision of Kylo and a young woman materialised. The wall of an elevator formed the backdrop of the image and the annexed data revealed that the lift was travelling from the Supremacy’s main hangar towards Snoke’s throne room, at a date six months previously. The girl was talking softly and moving slowly towards Kylo, stopping as her body almost brushed against his. Her wide eyes and eager lips offered the devotion of a lover as she beheld Kylo’s receptive gaze.

 

“Shameless hussy!” Hux snorted quietly under his breath as he leaned back in his chair, in an amused mixture of disbelief and disgust. He’d watched this clip many times, freezing the image on the adoring look on Kylo’s face, and it never failed to scandalise him.

 

Kylo had a very different reaction to the holo. His head had jolted as soon as the clip started, as though he had been slapped in the face. The rise and fall of his chest increased as he continued to watch, his fists clenching and unclenching in torment. Emotion seemed to bleed across his features as he watched the image, incapable of looking away from the source of his anguish.

 

As all eyes watched the holo, Hux sat back in his chair to focus intently on Kylo’s reaction. Illuminated by the glowing shields of the cage, the man’s obvious distress was as good as an admission of guilt. Hux had found him out!

 

The holo came to an end just as the image showed Kylo placing his hand gently on the girl's back, and the lighting in the room returned to its usual harsh glare as its reflection bounced brightly off the glossy surfaces of courtroom. Exhalations from members of the court assembly were audible over the rustle of fidgeting within the rigidity of their formal outfits. Expressions of surprise and discomfiture were exchanged, before all glances turned towards the silent man in the cage with the downcast eyes.

 

Hux was really beginning to enjoy himself now.

 

“Well, I think that makes things perfectly clear. Ren, do you have anything to add?”

 

Kylo damned him with a hateful glare, silent, rigid. Hux smirked at the tight-lipped cloud of darkness in the cell and congratulated himself. Time to stick the knife in deeper.

 

“For the benefit of those who don’t already know, the girl in the holo is Miss Rey of Jakku. We believe she has received Jedi training from Luke Skywalker. She is a confirmed Resistance activist and, it would be reasonable to assume, certainly at the time of this recording, she was also Kylo Ren’s _lover_! ”

 

Kylo immediately took a threatening step closer to the cage wall, his face murderous, while Hux merely raised a smug eyebrow, pleased that he’d obviously hit a nerve. Attendees of the court looked from one man to the other, heads moving from side to side as they observed the contemptuous exchange.

 

Hux hardened his resolve, projecting his voice across the room as he continued. “When questioned, you deliberately lied about Supreme Leader Snoke’s violent murder. You absolved yourself from all blame – instead, inculpating your accomplice, the Resistance terrorist,” he enunciated, with as much distaste as he could muster. “You then illegally assumed possession of his title.”

 

“Kylo Ren, this is TREASON OF THE HIGHEST ORDER!” He was on a roll now and didn’t bother to check the shrill pitch of his voice, causing a few of his spectators to flinch. He leaned forward again. “DID YOU REALLY THINK YOU WOULD GET AWAY WITH THIS?” He paused a few moments, schooling his voice to a long-suffering tone. “Do you have anything you wish to say for yourself?”

 

Kylo remained silent and continued to fix Hux with a black look that spoke of floridly arcane punishment, causing Hux to appreciate the protection guaranteed by the new force cage. A low, monotonous drone pervaded the room as the assembly exchanged opinions and observations.

 

Hux had had a good idea of Snoke’s true killer for months and hadn’t been remotely surprised by the revelations of the elevator recordings – they merely added weight to his suspicions. But he hadn’t finished with the accusations just yet. Kylo’s final humiliation was _really_ going to start now.

 

“Kylo Ren, you are also charged with gross negligence and breach of conduct, pertaining to your failure to act in the best interests of the First Order,” he continued calmly but assertively, in spite of the unchanging glower on Kylo’s face.

 

“In the six months since your illegal usurpation, the First Order has suffered immeasurably. The regime has endured months of economic decline, growth is currently stunted by financial restrictions and you have consistently failed to commit to improvement schemes suggested by some of the most prolific accounting experts in the galaxy.

 

“Without a strong leader, the popularity of the First Order is at its lowest since the establishment was formed.” His eyes roved the various levels of the room – he certainly had everyone’s attention - before returning accusingly to the man in the cage. His gaze clashed with Kylo’s, and he found that it was his own that broke away first.

 

Refusing to be discouraged, his voice ascended a pitch or two higher. “In every situation, you have failed to adhere to its idealistic culture, legacy and principles. Your ineffectiveness has damaged a long and harmonious period of political and attitudinal cohesiveness within this establishment.”

 

He straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin to display what, in his estimation, was an _excellent_ profile, and continued his indictment.

 

“You have consistently refused to personally engage in any militarised conflicts or confrontations. You have displayed a constant inability to take a firm lead in the expansion of the First Order, and failed to forcefully claim disputed territories in the Core Worlds.” By now he was almosst shouting. “Instead, you have negligently left the discussion of such matters to your generals, and you have shown no interest in resolving internal disagreements between officers as they debate the subject. Staff morale is at an all-time low, with a record number of suicides. The list of staff grievances has grown to such length, they are impossible to address.”

 

Kylo continued to stare wordlessly at Hux with accusing eyes. Both men knew who was really responsible for the morale issues.

 

Hux simply ignored Kylo, satisfied to have his attention again. He’d been looking forward to seeing the pathetic man’s reaction to his closing remarks.

 

“Kylo Ren,” he shouted, now rallying every ounce of anger into his tone. He felt the blood pumping through his body as his moment of triumph arrived. “I put it to you that your personal crisis has rendered you an IMPOTENT LEADER! You have prioritised your obsession with finding the Jedi girl, your ex-lover, over all else, and have squandered considerable resources in your quest to find her.” He stood up and took a deep breath in order to roar the last sentence, thumping on the lectern with each syllable. “YOU ARE UNFIT TO LEAD THE. FIRST. ORDER!”

 

________

 

**14.30 GST**

 

The court assembly sat, still reeling from the general’s vociferous performance, some used to his rabid speeches, others horrified by the blatant exhibition of trenchant loathing. There were few who thought Kylo Ren’s _trial_ , if it could be called that, was anything but a farce. Many eyed Hux with unadulterated admiration, wolfishly shifting forward, greedily wanting more; others glared disapprovingly in Kylo’s direction as they leant back in their seats, arms folded, eyes assessing, as though they were weighing up possible outcomes. Few regarded the prisoner with any pity.

 

Not everyone was convinced that all was in order, though, and instead were busy mapping the fastest route to the nearest exit.

 

Kylo maintained his murderous regard of Hux to the point that some began to shift uncomfortably in their seats. Many of Hux’s accusations had been blatant lies, deliberately designed to obscure the vile weasel’s ludicrous overspending and brutal governing methods. And the First Order could never, _ever_ , be described as “harmonious”.

 

But Kylo had the humility to acknowledge that Hux had been right about a couple of things. He'd known for a while that he’d been functioning on autopilot. He’d been content to take advantage of everyone’s fear and ignorance of his force abilities in order to give the illusion of control and power, but his heart really hadn’t been in it. He’d genuinely tried to improve things for a while, but had eventually become exhausted by the sheer inertia and futility of harbouring slightly differing motives in such a blinkered environment. He’d had supporters for a while, before Hux and Phasma disposed of them all...

 

He breathed a heavy sigh, weariness exuding from his every pore. He knew what was coming next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Kylo scares the poodoo out of Hux.
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave kudos and comments if you feel it's deserved.
> 
> My version of Kylo in my original draft was pretty lame, so @darthbutterfingers came along and brought him to life, as well as beta edited it all. @miranda13ao3 completely inspired me to ramp up the tension in the court room. Thanks, you guys!


	4. Sentenced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kylo hears his verdict and is surprisingly calm. Then he hears who Hux has just captured and goes completely nuts. WARNING: the end of this chapter gets a bit violent.

**Day 1 – 14.45 GST**

 

Hux stood with his hands behind his back and addressed his rapt audience.

 

“I would now like you all to submit your verdict. Please select the relevant graphic symbols on your datapads to determine whether you consider Kylo Ren to be guilty on all charges.” Hux paused. “We will then take a break and reconvene after refreshments for the final verdict and sentencing.”

 

The ensuing whisper of garments and staccato taps of footwear completely drowned the exchange between Hux and his generals. Kylo tamped down his frustration as he watched General Kennedy mutter something to Hux, who smirked ominously as he glanced at Kylo with a vindictive stare. Kylo simply stared back, his anger transforming from the blazing inferno it had been during Hux’s diatribe, to a simmer more conducive to planning.

 

The generals eventually filed out, leaving Kylo alone with the stormtroopers. He lay back down on the floor, looking up at the dull underside of his cage’s roof, his mind strangely calm.

 

In the face of certain death, he was surprised to discover that the only thing he could think about was Rey. He’d seen a vision of their future together and had been so certain of its prediction, his imminent demise didn’t make the slightest bit of sense. His thoughts returned to the spike of fear from her earlier that morning and he was still analysing the disturbing development when he picked up approaching footsteps outside the courtroom. He assumed a meditative pose, closing his eyes as he reached out to find whatever strands of the force were available to him. People started trickling into the various levels of the room again, eyes steadfastly looking anywhere but the cage. These fools knew it was more than their lives were worth to vote against Hux, but Kylo reckoned they must all be First Order zealots anyway, to have been invited here in the first place.

 

He ignored the returning mob and he didn’t bother to pay attention to the verdict. He knew what it would be.

 

________

 

**15.15 GST**

 

The last person to return from the recess was Hux, who made a great fuss of arranging himself at the podium before clearing his throat to recommence proceedings.

 

Hux looked out upon those who would soon be his loyal subjects. “Lords and ladies, members of the galactic judiciary and magistrates representing the Core Worlds,” he announced, trying to dampen the excitement creeping into his voice. This was going to be highly enjoyable. “A verdict has been reached.”

 

He focused his gaze on Kylo, and felt an instant stab of annoyance that the idiot hadn’t even bothered to get up. “For kriff’s sake, Ren, stand up!” he demanded.

 

Kylo remained seated, apparently in deep meditation. _Typical_.

 

“Ren! Get up!” Hux ordered. Still nothing. “Insufferable prick,” he muttered under his breath, then directed his gaze towards one of the stormtroopers. “Can’t you send a blast through the bars to get his attention?”

 

The stormtrooper’s head jerked up. “Sir, the electrical field would bounce it back at us.”

 

Hux sighed, impatient and disappointed. He’d really wanted to see Ren’s face as he announced the verdict, but he consoled himself with the fact that the judgement wouldn’t be the only torture he would inflict on the man that day.

 

“Very well, if you insist on such ridiculous behaviour, it’ll only be to your detriment,” he continued sharply. “Kylo Ren, the members of this court have unanimously found you guilty on all five charges. You are hereby sentenced to death by public execution, five standard light cycles from today.” He paused, still no response, and ground his teeth. “You shall be incarcerated here on the Finalizer until your execution. You will be given one last request, and it will be granted _provided_ it is reasonable and complies with certain guidelines, of course. You will also be given the chance to say goodbye to friends and family.” He added nastily under his breath, “ _if he has any_ ,” eliciting several smirks from his generals.

 

Perceptive courtroom attendees picked up on the threat still lingering malevolently in the atmosphere, the brief refreshment break having done nothing to clear the tension. The pervading silence enhanced the slightest sound – the squeak of a foot on the polished floor, the occasional gentle clearing of a throat, the creaking of riot batons as stormtroopers fidgeted with their weapons. But there was no sound at all from the convict sitting on the floor, whose cage walls were now sparking and dimming erratically. Bottoms shifted uneasily in seats and nervous glances were exchanged.

 

“You will appreciate, Ren,” Hux continued, in what he hoped to be a manner appropriate to address a man facing imminent death, “that I am being _extremely_ _generous_ , considering the severity of your crimes. Do you have anything you would like to say?”

 

Hux glared down at his prisoner, still sitting motionless on the floor. After further prolonged silence, he glanced round at his generals, seeming to ask a silent question. They nodded. “Right then, as you’re refusing to move, you’ll have to stay for the next session. I’m sure you’ll find it, er... _illuminating_ ,” he said, conversationally.

 

Hux’s eyes briefly explored the circular rows of seating. “I take it you’ve all been briefed by your respective assistants as to the nature of the next sitting?” He took their silence as affirmation. “Good, then I’ll be as concise as possible,” he said as he left the podium.

 

He descended the steps with care, and commenced an assertive strut around the circular boundary of the room, clasping his hands behind his back, pausing briefly to peer cautiously at Kylo as his brief amble brought him closer to the cage. The brute’s eyes were closed, face expressionless. Peaceful, even. He resumed his circuit of the courtroom floor, thoroughly enjoying the sensation of looking at people only to have them lower their eyes in fear and deference.

 

“For some time now, the future and purpose of the First Order has been in discussion between high ranking officers, loyal First Order supporters and financial sponsors, many of whom are present today,” he started, gesturing to the elevated faces peering down at him. Timing his delivery, he announced, “Yesterday, a vote was undertaken under the judicial supervision of the Grand Jury and it was unanimously agreed between _all_ factions that _I_ am the rightful successor to the title of Supreme Leader.” He paused, looking back nervously towards Kylo. Still no reaction. With a huff he turned back to his audience.

 

“I am _honoured_ to accept the designation. The conveyance of title is effective _immediately_ , but the investiture ceremony will take place five standard light cycles from today, directly after the _execution of Kylo Ren_.”

 

There were several sudden gasps from the audience. He turned around, pleased that he’d elicited an audible reaction from some, except he suddenly noticed that many faces were turned towards Kylo in the cage, _not_ him. He turned to a stormtrooper.

 

“What was that about?” he asked quietly.

 

“Nothing, sir. Just a slight power surge.”

 

Hux glanced back at Kylo again, then turned away, frowning slightly as he headed towards the podium. He allowed the assembly a few seconds to settle down before continuing his speech.

 

“ _My_ leadership will be anchored in fundamental First Order philosophy,” he boomed out, as new confidence buoyed him. “I shall lead this regime with an _iron fist_ , re-establishing First Order doctrine and honouring its values. I will tolerate NO insurrection.”

 

He elevated the level of threat in his voice with every pledge. “There will be immediate repression of _any_ opposition _whatsoever_ and recalcitrance will result in _instant execution_. Unlike Kylo Ren, I shall ENSURE that all remaining systems BOW TO THE MIGHT OF THE FIRST ORDER!

 

“I will make THE FIRST ORDER GREAT AGAIN!”

 

The awkward silence that followed seemed indeterminate although, in reality, it was only a fraction of a second, before nascent applause became distantly audible. The anxiety building in Hux's abdomen began to settle as others joined in, until the resounding cacophony thundered boisterously throughout the courtroom. Hux bowed his head in appreciation of the acclamation and held his hands up to signal them to stop. “Please!” he called, throat now hoarse from shouting. “I must ask you to cease!” he pleaded, feigning modesty.

 

The applause subsided to a few pathetic claps that echoed awkwardly around the absurd expanse of the room. “Thank you, thank you!” he said, unable to keep the grin from his face. “General Kennedy here will now give a brief address on forthcoming military projects, followed by Lieutenant Ho's talk on the financial backing that _I_ have secured to _revitalise_ the First Order.”

 

The courtroom listened in silence as Hux’s officers spoke evasively on their respective subjects and, instead, used the bulk of their time to issue fawning testimonials to their new leader. After half an hour of egregious discourse, relief washed over the assembly as Hux signalled the end of the talks, and thanked his officers. He closed the court by announcing, “Now, if you would be good enough to please exit the courtroom, you will find First Order clerks to take you to a drinks ceremony in the main hall.”

 

The usual sound of footsteps and muttering accompanied the crowd’s egress, but the stormtroopers, Hux and Kennedy remained.

 

________

 

**16.15 GST**

 

Kylo’s eyes flicked open. He’d been quietly focusing his energy whilst listening to Hux’s deluded diatribe and the nauseating sucking-up of his minions. Hux really _had_ been concise, though - hidden beneath the veneer of his sanitised declaration lurked the psychopathic obsessions of a madman. Kylo could foresee the boundless massacre promised by Hux’s decree.

 

He couldn't allow himself to die knowing he’d willingly stepped aside for that nutter to rule the galaxy, and decided that now was as good a time as any to test the weaknesses of his force cage. He opted to attempt his perennial favourite: a simple force choke.

 

Without moving, Kylo could just about see the extreme discomfort registering. He worked at strengthening his grip, only to meet with quiet frustration: his powers had obviously been dampened enough to prevent a proper choke. However, Hux appeared to recognise the disagreeable feeling and immediately stormed over to the cage to glare at Kylo with a mixture of accusation and fright. Kylo suppressed an urge to smirk. He could feel Hux’s pulse racing as if he was being chased by an enraged gundark.

 

“What’s wrong, sir?” Kennedy asked from the platform. Kylo cracked an eyelid open as Hux sharply turned round and scowled his officer in rebuke. The man stood to attention and hastily added, “Er, _Supreme Leader_.”

 

Hux didn’t answer and merely turned back to face Kylo, his emotions seething under his seemingly implacable façade.

 

Kennedy walked over to join him. “What’s going to happen to him, Supreme Leader?”

 

Hux snorted. “Well, _he’s_ going straight to his cell. I can’t _wait_ for him to see it, he’ll have a kriffing seizure!” Kylo’s concentration nearly broke as he felt how sickeningly pleased Hux was with himself.

 

There was a short silence and Kylo could feel both men regarding him.

 

“What have you done with the Jedi?” Hux eventually asked, as he and the General turned to leave.

 

Kylo’s body tensed and his mind whirled. Rey? Here? He immediately pushed out in the force, hardly daring to believe it when she responded:

 

_-Ben? Ben! I’m here, on your ship!_

 

“She’s now in the secure sector of the new detention block, Supreme Leader.”

 

- _You’re injured. Are you OK?_

 

- _I’ve been better._

 

“Make sure she’s kept unconscious.” Hux barked.

 

Kylo’s eyes remained closed as he lowered all resistances, allowing her essence to flood through him, battering through the barriers and proffering the crucial boost of hope he needed. It took a few seconds to recover from the slight giddiness induced by her powerful infusion. 

 

“Good. She’ll be executed with Ren. What a day that’s going to be!” Hux almost hummed with excitement as he turned to leave.

 

With both mens’ backs now facing him, Kylo quickly leapt to his full height, channelling every ounce of power he possessed and demanding it bend to his will. A guttural howl started growing somewhere near the pit of his stomach, and by the time it reached his vocal chords the terrifying, feral sound stilled the blood of the men in the room.

 

Hux spun around again, his eyes bulbous and mouth sagging open as if the abode of eternal damnation had just opened before him. He scrambled backwards, almost falling over in his in his haste to get away, squealing as he grabbed Kennedy and shoved the surprised man between himself and Kylo. 

 

Escalating energy thundered around Kylo as he raised his hands slowly, his fingers clawing as they pulled on the force. The room seemed to shudder as though a herd of fathiers now rampaged through its midst, nearly drowning out the sound of his restraints as they clattered noisily to the floor. With a flick from his splayed fingers, raw power ripped through the room, rapidly ionising the air and inducing a massive power surge which not only shorted out the barriers to his prison, but also cut the electrical supply to a large part of the Finalizer.

 

Stormtroopers desperately aimed their weapons towards Kylo, filling the air with lethal discharges, but their frantic blasting was worthless in the face of such furious power. With bared teeth and an upright clench of his fist, they fell to the floor.

 

He was free. And he was going to rip that little shit to pieces with his own bare hands. 

 

“You realise what you’ve done, Hux,” Kylo snarled. “You’re done for. You won’t see the end of this day, let alone your ascension.”

 

He used the force to drag the wailing coward to his hand, knocking Kennedy aside, just as an ocean of stormtrooper reinforcements flooded through the door behind him. He easily deflected their blasts, but recognised the confusion beginning to spread throughout his mind, clogging his cognisance. The realisation that he had succumbed to another gas attack caused a fresh surge of rage, temporarily slowing the gas's numbing effects. He managed to drunkenly force-push the troopers back weakly but it wasn’t enough.

 

With his lower torso and legs now weighed down by armoured soldiers, he strained every sinew to reach Hux and grasp his wrist in a vice-like grip. As Kylo was violently dragged backwards by the troopers, the momentum of his captors forcibly pulled Hux with them in their wake. Kylo managed to tear a huge bite out of Hux's arm before he was finally pulled away from the new Supreme Leader.

 

But he wasn’t ready to give in yet. He’d rather fight until there wasn’t a breath left in his body than let Hux have the satisfaction of executing him. With one final burst of unfocused energy, Kylo leapt towards him again, this time wrapping his enormous hands around the man’s neck.

 

“I’ll be granted one wish, right?” he snarled.

 

Hux’s eyes bulged unnaturally from his purple face. Kylo’s mouth now had enormous difficulty forming words.

 

“Let her go,” was all he managed.

 

Then he collapsed, his eyes blurring and body seizing up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that last bit wasn't too grisly!
> 
> Next chapter: Kylo's incarcerated and Hux shouts a bit. Phasma is a cheeky monkey.
> 
> Thanks to @darthbutterfingers for beta editing and coming up with kick-ass Kylo (as opposed to my slightly rubbish one) and @miranda13ao3 for giving me a huge boost of encouragement (which I needed to hear) - thank you, ladies! Everyone should check out their awesome stories on AO3.


	5. Incarcerated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kylo wakes up in a cell and sees Rey for the first time in ages, whilst Phasma stirs up trouble.

**Day 1 - 18.45 GST**

 

Captain Phasma regarded the rows of burnished plastoid helmets dutifully lining up in front of her.

 

The large hall lacked sufficient space to accommodate the 5,000 stormtroopers currently aboard the Finalizer, now crushing together in their squadrons, shoulder pressed to shoulder as yet more filed in. Scores were clambering up onto the dinner tables stacked precariously around the edges of the room.

 

Phasma had positioned herself in the kitchen adjoining the mess hall, watching from the food distribution counter as the troops poured in. She had to bend forward to see through the serving hatch, so it wasn’t ideal, but it was the only option in the circumstances. A slight wave of giddiness gripped her as the gravity of the situation sank in but, other than that, she felt nothing. She hadn’t felt _anything_ for years.

 

Hux’s sojourn in the med bay had been _very_ beneficial. Now she just had to wait for him to come out...

 

 

**18.50 GST**

 

Kylo shrank from the kaleidoscopic patterns assaulting his mind. Throughout his journey back to consciousness he'd endured spikes and waves, swaying and sinking, turbulence and calm…

 

The first thing that infiltrated the haze of returning awareness was an irritating rattle, its quiet persistence amplified by the absence of any other sound. He valiantly ignored it at first, until he could no longer shut out the bothersome clattering, so he opened his eyes to belligerently seek the irksome perpetrator. The only possible cause was the unremarkable air and heating vent above his bed – nothing unusual about that, the whole ship was full of them – but this one’s drone would eventually drive a man to the boundary of sanity.

 

Groaning indignantly, Kylo grabbed his pillow and put it over his ears, only to find his head now rested on a hard bed, albeit a very small one. A slight draft from the offending air vent also enlightened him to his current state of dress. He looked down and realised he was naked, except for a standard issue dark grey hospital gown which, on quick inspection, barely covered his front torso and tied at the back of his neck like a cape worn on the wrong side of the body. His slightly tacky skin and clumped hair indicated that he’d also been immersed in a bacta tank at some point.

 

He stretched and tried to piece the fractured snippets of his memory into some kind of chronological order. He remembered the so-called ‘trial _’_ , attacking Hux, communicating with Rey… He sat up, his heart bursting with the realisation that she was here somewhere. His mood lifted immeasurably at that realisation, but he slumped heavily back against the bed as he remembered overhearing reports of her capture. His head was suddenly flooded with more questions: how long had he been unconscious? Where the hell _was_ he? What was Hux up to now? Where was Rey, and was she OK?

 

Determined to find out more, he began to purposefully appraise his surroundings. Easing his long, bare legs over the edge of the bed, he planted his feet on the cold floor. Prising himself slowly off the bed, he stood and took a few seconds to adapt to his new position, before feeling confident enough to move. The bacta had clearly worked. He had no idea what kind of battering he’d received after trying to strangle the new Supreme Leader with his bare hands but, whatever it was, he’d obviously recovered well.

 

He looked at the room. The only interruptions in the four shiny black walls enclosing him were the customary First Order lighting panels and one solitary door. The room contained a single bed and a toilet. A vent on the ceiling above the bed. Nothing else - it was a detainment cell. He reasoned that this _couldn’t_ be the one Hux had referred to, the one that was supposed to give him a ‘seizure’. He glanced around again – it all looked pretty unremarkable to him.

 

He opened himself to the force and sensed the thousands of lives on the ship. He jolted as he felt Rey, her force signature a blaze of power and brilliance as it eclipsed everything in the entire galaxy, but he also realised there was no one else in close proximity, not even a guard or two.

 

“Ben! Are you all right?”

 

He could see her! She’d suddenly appeared at his feet, on her hands and knees as she frantically struggled and yanked at something in front of her. She glanced over her shoulder at him, her expression initially radiant before transforming into uncomfortable surprise, her eyes widening as she looked up at him.

 

“Oh!” was all she said, and she immediately returned her gaze to her task, her face a suspicious hue of pink.

 

He looked around, trying to establish the reason for her extreme reaction, then his eyes registered his ridiculously tiny hospital gown and the generously exposed flesh of his thighs and legs. He hastily pulled the insubstantial garment down and sat awkwardly on the bed, wondering how much she may have seen from her low vantage point.

 

"What are you doing?" he croaked, his voice still fogged by his enforced slumber.

 

"Just a minute..." she said tensely.

 

He quietly watched as she worked, taking the opportunity to allow his eyes to gleefully contemplate the woman whose memory had haunted him for so long, feeling a heady mixture of wonder, curiosity and amusement at their current predicament. She was so preoccupied with her task, she didn’t appear to notice the delighted attention he bestowed upon her as he perched on the bed.

 

It had been so long since he'd seen her. His chest started to feel slightly constricted at the vision of her, on all fours at his feet, her perfectly rounded behind jerking erratically as she engaged in her laborious pursuit. His eyes followed the lines of her body, confined within the immaculate cut of a First Order uniform, past a slender waist, graceful shoulders... lingering on the elegant nape of her neck and the wispy threads of light brown hair that had escaped the fastening underneath her cap. Heat swelled through him, and he cursed the flimsiness of his inadequate attire as he stealthily picked up his bed sheet and moved it to cover his lap. He cleared his throat before attempting to speak.

 

“Where are you?”

 

“Outside your cell. Trying to get you out,” she stated as she strained to reach forward for something. “But whatever you do, please _don’t_ try and get out by yourself...”

 

She glanced over her shoulder at him again, her expression grave and concerned, but then something or someone seemed to demand her attention and her head flicked to face the culprit. She disappeared, leaving him with nothing but a familiar longing and the annoying rattle of the fan.

 

________

 

 

**18.55 GST**

 

Hux had been brought to the superior officers' infirmary, his body battered and bloody, something he hadn’t experienced since boyhood. It had taken a long time for the medical droids to peel the stained bloody shirt from his arms and soiled garments from his shaking legs.

 

He’d been subjected to the same gas attack as Kylo Ren, having had no mask protection at the time. A short dunk in the bacta tank had accelerated his recovery, though his injuries still caused him pain, especially his shoulder. He was relieved to have only spent a couple of hours in the infirmary, and was determined to get back on schedule.

 

He showered and dressed, donning his coat with the high collar to cover the shadowy bruises ghosting the skin around his neck. He was busily engaged in the act of correcting his hair when his night shift assistant arrived to brief him on the current situation.

 

“Walk with me,” he rasped, his throat still rough after the assault. He signalled to the waiting guards and immediately headed straight for the Finalizer’s bridge. “Where’s Ren?”

 

“He’s been taken to the new detention cell, Sir.”

 

He tried to decide whether he felt relief or disappointment at the news – it meant that the despicable rancor’s arse was still alive. His lip curled: as much as he desired his rival’s immediate and grizzly death, Hux’s personal need to inflict one final act of humiliation was greater. He was in such a preoccupied haste, he didn’t notice the lack of correct address from the underling.

 

“Any trouble?” he asked, fiddling with his cufflinks. The hideously expensive detention cell had better bloody work, especially after the “ _force prohibitive”_ cage had turned out to be a disaster. Heads would _roll_ for that.

 

“No, sir.”

 

“The Jedi girl?”

 

“In her cell, sir.”

 

“Good. Has news of Ren’s deposition been broadcast?”

 

“Yes, sir, and everything’s set up for the holo announcement tomorrow.”

 

“Excellent!” He nodded in approval. Despite their earlier complications, things were still going to plan.

 

________

 

**19.01 GST**

 

Kylo gently lowered his head to his pillow and tried to block out the incessant vibration of the air filter as he lay on the thin mattress of the prison bed. He couldn’t believe she was _here,_ in the same place as him for the first time in over six months.

 

He chided himself for getting too excited - things could go horribly wrong again. An ache in his chest throbbed as he recalled the disappointment on her face when he’d last seen her in the flesh, her crushing betrayal as she deserted him for the enemy...

 

His pulse accelerated as his cruel mind replayed the moment they’d first met, two people on opposing sides of a brutal war rooted in the acrimony of their ancestors. Rey had sparked something within him he’d never known existed, propelling him into a myriad of conflicting possibilities as he’d raged, murdered and burned his way through the days leading up to the Battle of Crait. She’d called him a monster, spat hatred and sobbed despair at him, yet she'd ceaselessly continued to enchant him, and the force still conspired to bring them together.

 

Well, she’d ended up making the _wrong_ decision. But so had he. He knew all too well the power and the pain involved in his own daily existence since then.

 

What _had_ she been doing since then? Why had she shut him out for so long? An ugly surge of jealousy coursed through him at the unwelcome notion that she may have grown close to another in his absence, especially that traitor, FN-2187, followed by doubts about her feelings for him.

 

He rose to his feet and paced the room, chewing his lower lip and clenching his fists. He reached out to the force and tried to calm his rampaging emotions, needing to focus on more pressing issues. Rey _hadn’t_ been incarcerated and she _was_ currently on some kind of quest to free him – only the force knew why, but he told himself _that_ should be good enough for now. How had she managed to escape anyway? He smirked slightly at the notion that she may well have inflicted serious damage to the Finalizer or, even better, Hux, in her bid for freedom.

 

\- _Ben, we’re nearly ready, it shouldn’t be long now. We’ve had, er...a few complications. Please,_ _ **don’t**_ _try and get out in the meantime._

 

Kylo’s jealousy boiled again with unexpected heat.

 

‘We’?

________

 

**19.05 GST**

 

“Sir, we have a situation in the mess hall.” A disembodied voice crackled from Hux’s wrist comm.

 

“Captain Phasma,” Hux said irritably. “I _told_ you to call me ‘Supreme Leader’ from now on!”

 

“My apologies, Supreme Leader. It’s an old habit, it won’t happen again.”

 

“See that it doesn’t,” he snapped. “What’s happened in the mess hall anyway?”

 

“Another soldier has flipped out.”

 

“Are you sure it’s not just another complaint about the quality of the food?”

 

“I’m sure, Supreme Leader. It’s definitely not that.”

 

“Not again. Kriff, this whole bloody ship is one giant floating ZOO of IDIOTS!” he bellowed with exasperation as he pivoted and did a hasty a U-turn in the corridor, his long coat spinning round the axis of his legs. “This is all bloody _Ren’s_ fault!” he snarled and stormed furiously towards the mess hall, his guards trotting along behind him. He hadn’t even made it as far as the bridge.

 

________

 

**19.06 GST**

 

_\- Ben. We’re outside your cell. Can you…_

 

_\- Who’s ‘we’?_

 

Rey seemed taken aback by his unexpected question.

 

\- _Er...me, and one other Resistance member. I’ve come to get you out, but I need your help._

 

Silence. Kylo used all the control he possessed to clamp his lips shut as his unexpected jealousy radiated with enough passion to turn Hoth into a sauna.

 

\- _Ben_ , _will you trust me?_

 

He was unable to answer that question, but he knew he still didn’t trust himself.

 

\- _Ben?_

 

He received a full blast of sorrow and frustration from her and, sighing, he sat down heavily on the bed, dejection drowning every ounce of hope in his body. So, it was back to this, was it? Him versus the Resistance.

 

\- _Listen..._

 

Her voice was soft and tender now.

 

\- ... _I can’t explain everything right now – there’s too much to tell you and we haven’t got time. Your mother’s known about Hux’s plans to overthrow you for a while and I... well...I’ve, er...missed you._

 

She gave a shaky sigh and Kylo was hit with another wave of emotion from her.

 

\- _We came up with a plan to stop Hux and free you, but things are beginning to get a bit crazy here. I’m not asking you to join the Resistance, but I can’t get you out without your help. And your cooperation in sorting things out here would be_ _ **very**_ _gratefully received. I don’t know what will happen after that, but I really hope that we can be...friends? Somehow. If you want..?_

 

He processed her statement, chewing his lower lip and pacing the floor again. What did she mean by ‘ _friends’_? Could he trust her?

 

_\- Why did you shut me out?_

 

He’d meant to sound nonchalant, but he cringed at the petulant accusation in his question. He stood up again, clenching his fists. He _needed_ to know.

 

Now it was her turn to pause before responding, but after a few seconds her image appeared before him through the bond.

 

“Because I was _upset!_ And _confused!_ ” she said immediately, her voice strained. He jumped and his heart sputtered to a stop as he gaped at her sudden appearance. Her expression was serious, her eyes wide as they appealed to him for understanding.

 

“I was worried our bond would be discovered and I’d be thrown out. _And_ I thought I might accidentally give our location away.” Her expression hardened. “You nearly killed me, _and_ your mother, on Crait.”

 

Kylo couldn’t meet the accusation in her eyes and found himself examining her boots instead.

 

“I just couldn’t risk it,” she continued, her voice thick with regret.

 

Kylo looked back at her, his control slipping. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he knew he’d have to choose his words carefully – especially after his bungled proposal months ago. She currently held the superior position as his rescuer – and she was wearing _a lot_ more clothes than him, so she had the upper hand in more ways than one.

 

Despite his reservations, seeing her force projection was a salve that soothed months of despair and turmoil. His heart stuttered back to life again as the tension slowly began to ease from his temples. He battled to maintain a neutral demeanour as his eyes hungrily flickered over every part of her anguished face, observing the curve of her lips, the aching sincerity in her eyes, the hint of a scar on her cheek that he didn’t remember being there before...he wanted to absorb _every_ feature.

 

She took a step closer to him, eyes pleading.

 

“You’ll _die_ if you stay. Please don’t make...” her gaze could no longer meet his, “please don’t make me leave you here.”

 

Her words were whispered between fragmented breaths. He flinched as he felt the hurt prickling her throat, her eyes, her chest. Trying to master his thoughts, he stood rigid, face expressionless, but could no longer contain the potent concoction of emotions burning his senses.

 

He didn’t want to do anything to disrupt her projection so he reached out slowly, and gently placed his hands on her gracile shoulders, small but strong beneath his huge paws. She quickly looked up at him, her damp eyes searching his. She had come for him. Again. His anger, jealousy and distrust vanished like spectres in daylight.

 

“What do you need me to do?” he asked softly, but with resolve. The immediate deluge of relief from Rey washed over him with staggering intensity.

 

He felt some of the rigidity drain from her shoulders. “Before I try anything, I need to show you what we’re up against...”

 

**19.06 GST**

 

With Hux on his way, Phasma needed to act fast. She had to stop him. To ensure her own survival.

 

The growing discontent, deprivation and resentment, as well as the distrust among the troopers, the declining mental health… it had all reached such a volatile crisis level that the slightest provocation was all that would be needed to detonate the time bomb.

 

Time to light the touch paper.

 

“Attention!” Her amplified voice boomed out over the squeaks and creaks of thousands of individual pieces of moulded plastoid armour.

 

“Supreme Leader Hux has implemented drastic changes to the stormtrooper programme, effective immediately,” she announced, pointedly enunciating every word with crisp contempt. “Since the defection of FN-2187, he feels you’ve been pushing boundaries to an unacceptable level.

 

“All prospects for promotion have therefore now been suspended,” she stated, noting the disappointed groans drifting across the hall. Interesting - the troops had all been heavily trained to suppress such insolence.

 

“But that's not strong enough, so stormtrooper privileges and rewards are henceforth _rescinded_ and all recreational programmes have now been _cancelled_.” Her voice rose threateningly as she carried on, “However, those of you who are _informants_ and have been spying on your fellow soldiers will _continue_ to receive rewards.”

 

That definitely touched more than a few raw nerves. From her viewpoint in the kitchen, she could see random zones of disturbance in the sea of stormtroopers, indicating possible altercations between the soldiers. This was confirmed as waves of accusatory shouting reached her ears and she wondered just how much she’d need to provoke them before they _really_ bit.

 

Raising her voice to drown out the shouting soldiers and uneasy shifting and scraping of armour against armour, she continued, “From now on, Supreme Leader Hux will ensure that _every_ soldier receives compulsory reconditioning on a regular basis, starting tomorrow after your morning drill.”

 

Pausing to allow that to sink in, she smiled secretly beneath her helmet as she watched the soldiers' taut stances as they glanced at each other. “The existing curfew has been brought forward, effective _immediately_. You will now return to your dormitories by 21.00 GST, and any soldier caught disobeying will be dealt with swiftly and harshly,” she shouted over the clamour. The tension in the air was now almost tangible. She had to push on quickly, her time nearly up.

 

“Any soldiers showing signs of mental or physical fatigue will be shot _immediately_ ,” she bellowed. The troops had actually stopped moving now, bracing for attack. Nearly there…

 

“You will _all_ be put on penalty food rations until you PROVE THAT YOU CAN FOLLOW ORDERS! _”_ she roared in her most aggressive battle cry. _“_ THIS IS YOUR PUNISHMENT!”

 

That did it. The final indignity.

 

Thousands of glossy helmets thrashed and undulated with growing urgency as nascent discontent erupted into a full-scale riot, the seething air spitting and burning with murderous intent. Phasma didn’t allow herself even a split second to observe the frenzied beauty of the emerging chaos - slamming the kitchen shutter down, she fled for her life. A wave of bodies surged towards the hatch, furiously kicking at the shutter in a cacophony of violence. Its metal panels quickly buckled under the ferocity of the onslaught.

 

Those responsible for its destruction caught the briefest flash of retreating chrome alloy, unaware that this would be the last time anyone saw the distinctive glint of Captain Phasma’s iconic armour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Will Rey manage to free Kylo and what is Phasma up to?
> 
> I'd love to hear your comments on how this story's going so far. 
> 
> Thanks to the ever patient @darthbutterfingers, my beta buddy, who has improved my story immeasurably. Thanks also to @miranda13ao3 for being so encouraging. Love you guys x


	6. Extracted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey helps Kylo escape and Hux swears a lot.

 

**Day 1 – 19.10 GST**

 

“Stop singing!”

 

Rose giggled as Finn belted out a particularly vigorous rendition of his favourite song. He’d never heard music before joining the Resistance and he now took every available opportunity to listen to the stack of old holos he’d found in one of the Millennium Falcon’s holding bays. Han must have stored, or hidden, them ages ago.

 

“You _love_ my voice,” Finn crooned, sweeping over to her and planting a kiss on top of her shiny black hair.

 

“I’m trying to concentrate!” she complained, feigning annoyance.

 

Her eyes still vibrant with affection, she focused on the Libertine’s controls as she navigated their course to the Finalizer. If all went to plan, they would land within the hour.

 

The mission certainly had its risks, but so far there’d been no major problems. Rey had been sneaking stealthily throughout the Finalizer for nearly a whole day cycle, disabling systems and disrupting communications, whilst her decoy sat in the detention block. Rose hoped that Kat was OK and that the Resistance spies already on board were able to help the two women...

 

**________**

 

**19.12 GST**

 

“I will NOT accept this RIDICULOUS behaviour!” Hux’s shrill voice bounced off the corridor walls as he directed his tirade at no one in general. “In the _mess hall_ , of _all_ places…” he grumbled, before fuming, “I mean, for fuck’s sake, if you’re feeling a bit like going mad, surely you can _make sure you have your bloody breakdown somewhere else_!”

 

The turbolift stopped and he burst out into the corridor on level 7. Kriff, it was loud in the hall today.

 

“Stupid bloody stormtroopers,” he muttered under his breath, marching towards the room whilst musing on whether or not this statement qualified as a tautology. All stormtroopers were, by their very nature, utterly _brainless_ , so it was entirely unnecessary to use the word ‘stupid’ when describing them. This thought cheered him slightly.

 

An almighty roar blasted all sense of bravado from Hux’s mind, his scowl deepening as the noise intensified with his every footstep. He turned the corner and froze, the sneer falling from his lips in horror.

**________**

 

**19.12 GST**

 

Kylo had no idea how difficult his extraction would be, but he knew Rey wasn’t simply just standing on the other side of the door facing him. He closed his eyes and focused on the image currently captured by her gaze, conveyed telepathically through their bond. His eyebrows hit the ceiling at what he saw.

 

He stood within a durasteel cube, suspended by four hefty chains within a hangar-sized vault. An air duct shaft ran down to the roof of the cage, pumping air into his cell, but Rey transmitted the unnerving fact that the switch of a button could also filter deadly gas into the room, capable of killing him within seconds.

 

The space encompassing his suspended cage was vast enough to house a whole fleet of X-Wing fighters, but the huge expanse was not entirely empty. He saw the hovering spheres of at least twenty lethal motion-sensitive droids, currently dormant but floating menacingly in the void around the prison.

 

The dark walls of the vault were unremarkable, with the exception of duct openings at the top, their huge, gaping mouths furiously sucking the air out of the space around the cage. Kylo inhaled sharply at the realisation that his cell was surrounded by a vacuum.

 

The only means of exit was a retractable tube, designed to create a fully enclosed pathway between the airlock at the edge of the vault (where Rey currently stood regarding the cavernous expanse between them), and the airlock adjoining his cell. Kylo reasoned that an escape _may_ be possible on his own, but the prospect of success was very poor.

 

The bridge corridor was currently withdrawn, concertinaed up against the entrance to the Finalizer. The only two people authorised to control it were Hux and Phasma.

 

_\- I’ve been trying to bypass the bridge’s controls for over an hour, but I’ve had no luck. Half the ship’s still dysfunctional after you blew out the electrics. I tried moving the bridge with the force, but it wouldn’t budge. I’m going to try and pull the whole prison cage towards me, but I don’t think I can do it on my own. Can you help?_

 

He knew what he had to do.

**________**

 

**21.24 GST**

 

Armitage Hux’s day had gone from sublime to terrifying. For some reason, his troops were out for blood. His Blood. As the furious armoured soldiers thundered towards him in the corridor, he turned and fled, running faster than he’d ever done in his entire life. Stampeding footsteps raged after him for what felt like miles, and passageways blurred into a haze of grey as his exhausted legs continued to belt along endless floors. Boots squealed in resistance as the hunt sent them skidding around corners, the baying ire of the mob escalating menacingly. His spitting protestations disappeared in the clamour of mutiny.

 

A soldier eventually closed the distance between them and made a sharp lunge for him, reaching an arm forward to grab him by the face, armoured fingers clawing with intent. The force of the action yanked him backwards with such power his demise looked inevitable. Using every ounce of energy he had, he twisted away from the grasping hand and righted his stance, but not without consequence to his face.

 

His legs pounding the floors with frantic urgency, he managed to put some distance between himself and the mob, but quickly reached the point of depletion. His splitting ribs screamed with overexertion, his vision began to blacken. Deafened by the pounding heartbeat thundering in his ears, he was oblivious to the alarming volume of the wheezes and gulping sobs spewing from his gasping mouth, his terrible sounds resembling the dying breaths of a fearsome beast as they echoed around the empty corridor. He fell against a wall and struggled to raise a violently shaking hand to the data panel of the nearest room. The door slid open with rapid ease and he collapsed over the threshold, groaning in relief as it slid shut behind him.

 

It took at least ten minutes for the rasping, gagging and dizzyness to subside, and for the stitch in his side to ease. His ribs still ached and his mouth felt detestably dry, excluding the ferrous-tasting blood streaming from his facial wounds.

 

Once he was able to breathe normally and think lucidly, his posture gradually regained its dignified comportment. He dabbed painfully at his injured face with a handkerchief as he regarded his hiding place, a small cleaning supply room. Even though he knew every inch of the ship by heart, he’d lost track of his location during his frantic escape, but he was painfully aware that he was still on the stormtrooper mess and dormitory level – apparently now the most dangerous place for him to be. If the riotous chaos wasn’t contained, the whole ship would go into lockdown and he’d be stuck here.

 

So many things could have gone wrong today but, in every possible scenario, he’d really only envisioned Kylo Ren finally succeeding in choking the life out of him. He had _not_ predicted a stormtrooper revolt forcing him to run for his life.

 

How the hell had he managed to get away from them anyway? Was it the stormtroopers’ clunky armour, his slight frame, adrenaline, sheer bloody determination…? Kriff only knew. And if they’d wanted him dead, they could have killed him a hundred times over, but he couldn’t recall hearing any blaster fire, or perhaps the sound had been swallowed by the din of the melee. Or had they wanted him alive?

 

Adrenaline still valiantly fought off the exhaustion and pain nudging his body, but only just. He’d been up for hours, having arisen unusually early to command the jedi’s capture. Each stage of the plan had worked brilliantly. How the fuck did he end up hiding in a cleaning cupboard?

 

He’d managed to detain the Jedi and incapacitate Ren. He was a bloody _genius!_

 

Captured, restrained, deposed, sentenced, incarcerated. If he could somehow get to his room, he could still get back on track. He was going to make _damned_ sure he’d add ‘executed’ to the list.

 

________

 

**19.24 GST**

 

His face contorting in an unsightly grimace, Kylo unleashed a battery of force powers to propel his prison sideways through the vacuum, towards Rey.

 

The enormous metal tethers began to strain against their fastenings and Kylo both heard and felt the thundering boom of the air vent detaching itself from the cube’s roof. The cage fought defiantly against the onslaught of power, reluctantly inching forward like a celestial body drawn through space by a black hole.

 

Kylo’s powers merged with Rey’s in ecstatic harmony, their abilities fusing as their swirling energies nurtured, fed, caressed. He could feel her meeting his strenuous thrust, her astounding power beckoning him deeper through the void as the cube grudgingly succumbed to the forces commanding it.

 

The insentient droids were uncaring of the rapturous reunion taking place and had no misgivings about pummelling the cage with merciless fire, prompted into action by its movement. Kylo’s prison room rocked and buffeted under the intense bombardment, compelling him to repeatedly reposition his bare feet in order to remain standing.

 

With a violent lurch, the cell ripped from its restraints and slammed Kylo forcefully against the wall. His concentration momentarily broke and, with Rey’s attention temporarily focused on nudging the droids out of the cube’s path, the prison suddenly plummeted towards the bottom of the void, with no friction to impede its descent.

 

\- _BEN!_

 

Rey’s scream reached him through the force. His stomach lurched sickeningly as he plunged downwards at a shocking rate, his traitorous blood rushing to his head, hampering all ability to concentrate. As the metal coffin hurtled towards the explosive demise awaiting him, he lost his grip on the force. He tried to re-focus but knew it would be too late.

 

The diving cell slowed as it gently dropped the final few meters to the ground, cushioned by Rey’s swift reaction. The cage became as still as if nothing had happened and Kylo lay on the prison floor, sweating and gasping as his body readjusted. The whole freefall had only lasted the duration of one deep breath, but he’d felt every gut-churning nanosecond of it.

 

For a moment, he thought he might have died but Rey’s shrieks of anguish and relief welcomed him back to the present.

 

\- _BEN! ARE YOU OK?_

 

He seemed incapable of coherently forming words, so he merely projected his current state to her. She hit him with a bundle of care and healing so exquisite he thought he’d died again.

 

\- _I’m going to try and get rid of the droids..._

 

Through her eyes, Kylo saw her force-push one droid towards another, sparking a volley of rapid fire which illuminated the cavernous emptiness in blazing arcs of light as each destroyed the other, sending debris flying out in all directions. He vicariously watched the incessant bombardment as he lay motionless on the floor, still reeling from the effects of his gruelling experience. Eventually the soundless annihilation abated with colourful finality.

 

\- _I’m going to try and raise you now_

 

She said softly, as she sent another wave of warmth to him.

 

Now unhindered by chains and droids, Rey’s powerful command of the force lifted the cube with ease, the prison looking like a large elevator as it gracefully and steadily ascended towards the top of the vault. Kylo still lay on the floor, feeling the upward motion and forcing down the dawning hope which threatened to deepen with every passing second. He wasn’t out of trouble just yet.

 

Once the cube was roughly level with the airlock, Rey carefully started pulling it towards her.

 

That’s when Kylo noticed the hiss of escaping air.

**________**

 

**19.28 GST**

 

Hux cautiously poked his head round the door of his hiding place. He had no idea what the hell was going on or why his soldiers had turned against him, but he really needed to get off this level and up to the top floor to his quarters.

 

None of his officers or generals had responded to his communications. He’d had a panic alarm attached to his wrist comm ages ago, which would alert Phasma and Peavey to any threat to his life. He’d been pressing the damned thing ceaselessly for the last ten minutes.

 

Peavey...well, there was no way _he_ could respond - he’d shown a bit too much respect towards Ren, so he’d disappeared a few weeks ago. Hux had been so wrapped up in overseeing the completion of Ren’s cell and the detention suite, he hadn’t got round to replacing Peavey’s link with Kennedy’s. Phasma hadn’t responded at all, even though the alarm had a locator on it so that she could easy find him.

 

So much for being the supreme bloody leader.

 

**________**

**19.29 GST**

 

Kylo nervously glanced upwards.

 

When he and Rey had ripped the prison cage from its tethers, the air duct had also been torn from the roof, leaving a small hole where the vent had been. Air was slowly haemorrhaging into the vacuum surrounding him. Kylo was back on his feet now, bunging the hole with the pillow case from the prison bed, thinking that the sooner he got out of the ridiculous cage, the better.

 

He stretched out his hand and commanded the cage towards Rey, his head facing downwards and teeth clenched in concentration. Rey simultaneously used her well-honed force powers to buoy the metal box as it juddered erratically through the vacuum on its journey towards the main ship’s airlock.

 

Kylo felt the air pressure shift and looked up - the pillow case must have been sucked out and he realised he’d have to hurry before everything else joined it. The prison cube quickly neared its target, approaching at the wrong speed and the wrong level, but they managed to cushion its docking slightly. The abrupt stop caused Kylo to stumble but he quickly levelled himself, just as the pillow and bed sheet flew past him towards the expanding hole. Acting quickly, he force-blasted both prison and airlock doors open then leapt up towards Rey, guided by her force powers as he cleared the gap between the cage and the entrance to the Finalizer’s airlock - just as the remaining contents of the cell were jettisoned into the void.

 

Rey desperately reached forward and grabbed his outstretched hand. Using all her strength to pull him sharply towards her, she tugged him to safety and force-closed the outer airlock door behind him, toppling backwards as his huge frame crashed into her. They both tumbled to the floor. Kylo used the force to ease Rey’s touchdown and prevent her being crushed as he landed partially on top of her.

 

Finally free from his cell and the deathly vacuum surrounding it, his exhausted head slumped onto something warm and soft which, in his fallen position, happened to be Rey’s navel. They both lay on the airlock floor, breathless and shaken, making no attempt to move as they recovered together.

 

Rey’s hands eventually found their way into Kylo’s hair, her fingertips gently brushing along his scalp as her palms smoothed over his soft strands, and his body slumped as he relaxed into her gentle curves.

 

For a blissful moment, everything was forgotten: their surroundings, their enmity, their First Order pursuers, the fate of the galaxy.... Their force signatures unified and rippled in gleeful eddies.

 

It wasn’t long before the spell was broken.

 

They both sensed someone approaching.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. By now, you've probably realised that I don't have an original idea in my head - I mean, Kylo's cage, right?
> 
> Next chapter will be posted soon - Rey considers whether or not to let Kylo flash his bare bum at everyone on the Finalizer or whether she should actually offer him some clothes....
> 
> Thanks for your lovely comments and kudos so far, it makes my day xx
> 
> Many, many thanks to @darthbutterfingers for doing an amazing job of sorting out my utter tosh on this chapter. Seriously, it would have been a real bag of shite without her help. Check out her great story 'We Belong' on AO3 - she has proper ideas, unlike my ripped-off ones....Thanks also to lovely @miranda13ao3 - without her encouragement, I wouldn't have even attempted writing anything.


	7. Liberated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yippee, there are lightsabers in this chapter! And we get a bit more of an idea what Phasma's up to, or not up to. Poor old Hux is still having a bad time. Rey and Kylo seem to be getting on OK, though, kind of...

**Day 1 - 19.29 GST**

 

Hux cautiously inched along the unnaturally quiet corridor, desperate to reach his quarters on the top floor of the Finalizer. Baulking at the prospect of being cornered in a turbolift by a bunch of marauding stormtroopers, he aimed for the nearest emergency stairwell instead.

 

He held his breath as he edged closer to the end of the passageway, knowing that the only way to reach the stairs was by crossing an overpass, one of several narrow durasteel bridges criss-crossing the large atrium ahead of him. The vast expanse of open space seemed to gape mockingly at him as he tentatively crept closer. He knew that the second he stepped out, he’d become an easy target, visible to anyone on the many floors overlooking the atrium. Biting back the desire to retreat, he tentatively placed one foot forward, as if the movement would somehow encourage his other leg to co-operate. Heart pounding furiously in his chest, he stepped into the open and started walking in as casual fashion as he was able.

 

As he reached the middle of the overpass, he heard several modulated yells filtering from a lower level and carefully peered down to see a swarm of stormtroopers heading towards the edge of the platform, their bodies swaying and oscillating in a deadly rhythm. They pulled and pushed, forcing some of their group towards the balcony, and Hux felt a queasy lurch as he realised what was going to happen next. Not wishing to witness the sickening thuds of victims hitting the floor several levels down, he hastily paced the remaining length of the bridge, wondering what the kriff was going on.

 

________

  **19.34 GST**

 

Kylo leapt to his feet, offering his hand to Rey. She extended hers in acceptance and he gently pulled her up. He reluctantly relinquished his hold on her, somehow gliding his fingers slowly down to the very end of her fingertips, where they lingered a fraction of a second longer than they ought. He just didn't want to let go.

 

They faced each other, in the flesh, for the first time in months. Genuine warmth radiated from her wide eyes and wonder played round the corners of her lips, forcing him to challenge an overwhelming desire to grab her. Even with imminent threat approaching, any pragmatism he possessed was thrown off balance... he’d just been laying _on top of her_ , nearly _naked,_ she’d voluntarily touched him, and now their eyes were exploring each other’s with a hunger he couldn’t allow himself to interpret just yet.

 

“Let’s go,” was all Rey said.

 

They exited through the inner airlock door and entered the Finalizer. Kylo steeled himself for violent confrontation as the footsteps drew closer, but he lowered his defences slightly as Rey greeted the approaching woman with obvious relief.

 

“Ballie!” she said warmly, then turned to face him. “This is Ballion,” she explained, her eyes gauging his reaction. “She’s one of the spies helping us.”

 

The resistance agent handed a bundle of clothes to Rey, pointedly refusing to look at Kylo.

 

“Thanks,” Rey said, taking them. “What’s the situation out there?”

 

Ballie risked a nervous glance in Kylo’s direction, then looked straight back at Rey, clearly hesitant to speak freely in front him.

 

“Ben?” Rey turned to face him. “Are you willing to help us?”

 

The question hung heavily in the air, snuffing out the intensity of their reunion. Kylo sensed her clear objective: she’d come to free him and capture Hux…and she had no intention of persuading him to join the Resistance. He appreciated her sentiments, but she was asking him to hand over everything he’d fought for.

 

He saw another image in her mind, further provoking his already warring thoughts - his mother, currently nearing the Finalizer. Rey knew he’d seen it and anxiously watched as a hurricane welled up inside him. He felt his chest and shoulders rising and falling as he struggled to contain his conflict, his brows drawing together in vertical furrows as he scowled.

 

\- _You didn’t tell me_ _ **she**_ _was coming._

 

He clenched his fists tightly. Ballion took a nervous step backwards, suddenly eager to put more distance between herself and the couple.

 

\- _It's the only way to end all this..._

 

Rey thought, slowly reaching towards him, and his eyes warily tracked the movement of her hand as it drew closer. Raising his watchful glare, he met undisguised empathy and solace blazing in her eyes - she wanted him to know that she sensed his struggle, and that she understood it. Her fingers slid around his tense fist and she fearlessly held his gaze as she gently stroked the front of his hand with her thumb. He involuntarily gulped in a sharp breath at the gesture, tightening his unyielding fist in an automatic response.

 

He regretted his reaction immediately. Despondency dampened the hope in Rey’s eyes, and she looked away as she let go of his hand. A stream of seething doubts unintentionally surged through her barriers and Kylo unwittingly bore witness to her confusion: she hadn’t merely offered her hand to him, thus giving him the choice of accepting or refusing it. No, instead she’d just _grabbed_ it like some kind of needy moron - no wonder he'd clammed up! She was livid at her own foolishness, her palpable awkwardness heating her cheeks in a furious blush.

 

Mild amusement replaced his own mortification. Abandoning any attempt at maintaining a serious expression, Kylo nearly smiled.

 

“Rey,” he said softly, reaching forward to affectionately wrap both hands around one of hers, causing her face to snap up towards him as astonishment sparked in her eyes. The sudden movement resulted in a teasing brush of her hand within his, prompting him to instinctively tighten his hold around her. For some reason, the assortment of sensations was having a strange effect on his knees, and he took a shaky step closer to her. “I’ll try,” he said, in response to her question.

 

A subtle cough snapped them both back to their senses - he’d forgotten about the woman.

 

Kylo reluctantly let go of Rey. She spun round to face Ballie, who looked both confused and appalled. “Please go ahead,” Rey said awkwardly.

 

“Well,” the young spy started, making every effort to avoid looking at either of them, “it seems that Phasma has sparked a riot and -”

 

“Phasma?” Kylo’s voice was heavy with disbelief as he raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

 

“It must have been," Ballie responded, now deeming it safe to make eye contact. "I was with Hux when she told him to go to the stormtrooper mess hall and all hell broke loose after that. Everything’s grounded now, so she must still be hiding somewhere on the ship. Several units of stormtroopers have taken officers hostage on level 9. Other groups are calling for Hux’s blood and he’s now in hiding – he was last seen on level 7." She turned towards Rey and continued. "There's been reports of troopers killing each other and the kitchen staff have blockaded themselves in the main galley so they don’t get caught in the crossfire. The generals have been arguing about loyalty – some are loyal to Hux and won’t pass any orders without him, and some are now wishing that, er, you,” she nodded towards Kylo, “should have been allowed to remain as Supreme Leader.

 

“Cobain’s now in charge of communications and Leia’s just landed. I’d better get back to my station – I need to keep an eye on what’s going on.”

 

“Thanks,” Rey said.

 

“You’d better get moving," Ballie added. "The whole ship’s going to be locked down any minute – we’ve delayed it as long as we can, but Cobain will be killed if he gets caught sabotaging the comms for much longer.”

 

With a swift nod, the uniformed woman hastily departed, her footsteps still echoing along the corridor as Rey turned to Kylo.

 

“I suppose we should get going.” She handed him the bundle of clothes, her eyes skittering over his hospital gown before she forced her gaze back up to his. “You’d…er, better get some clothes on.”

 

Kylo cast his eyes around for somewhere to dress in privacy. He reversed towards the nearest door, careful to display only his front aspect to Rey lest his flapping hospital gown reveal his bare behind, and a small smile played around his lips as he maintained eye contact with her. She openly beamed at him now, giggling slightly, and he felt his chest ignite.

 

He disappeared into the room and closed the door behind him. “You know,” he heard her say from directly behind the door, as he struggled to pull on the ill-fitting First Order uniform, “I was _so_ tempted just to let you run around the Finalizer, flashing your bum at everyone…!” followed by more giggles.

 

Kylo froze for a second.

 

“I’ll remember that,” he snarked, as a grin spread across his face.

 

________

 

**19.35 GST**

 

“Hi, Cobe!” Ballie spoke into her wrist comm. “Rey’s freed him.”

 

“Any problems?” came the crackly response.

 

“No. But you wouldn’t _believe_ what those two are like.”

 

“What? They tried to kill each other?”

 

“Quite the opposite. Kylo Ren was totally giving Rey the porg eyes.”

 

“What - just like you do, to Lieutenant Mitaka?” Cobain teased.

 

“I do not!” Ballie shrieked.

 

A loud bleep sounded through the comm. “Listen, tell me later. Get here _now_! The whole ship’s going into lockdown!”

 

________

 

**19.37 GST**

 

Hux had just made it to the stairwell. There were 23 flights to climb and he was really not looking forward to it. His body had already endured enough today.

 

His thoughts were pierced by a shrieking alarm, and his heart hammered against his ribcage in fright as he realised what that meant. He was trapped and there was no way he’d be able to reach his chambers until all the blast doors were raised again. He supposed he should be grateful that those traitorous stormtroopers wouldn’t be able to get at him for a while.

 

He climbed the steps at a steady pace, fuelled by the kind of determination he’d developed as a child avoiding his father’s _discipline_ , and pondered over the near certainty that the chaos must have spread throughout the whole ship like a deadly virus. Was this a deliberate attempt to prevent him acceding to his rightful position? Or just unfortunate timing? Who the hell was currently in charge of the First Order anyway?

 

Ren couldn’t possibly have escaped from his cell and the Jedi had been kept unconscious since capture, so it must be Phasma, as she was the only one who knew enough about his schemes to successfully interfere with them. The ruthless killer wasn’t his confidante or his friend – neither of them had _friends_ – but their relationship had been based on a shaky understanding, due to the simple fact that they were on the same wavelength. She’d executed his orders with lethal efficiency and had never questioned the ‘disappearances’ required to oust Ren, or those necessary to appease his paranoia… these deaths had to happen.

 

Once he’d formally been declared Supreme Leader, she would have to go too – she knew too much. _Live by the sword, die by the sword._

 

He felt a sudden, sickening jolt of terror at the thought that the havoc may have reached the officers' level on the top floor. There were things that Phasma, or anyone ransacking his quarters might discover, especially if they were looking for something to use against him.

 

Things that he really didn’t want anyone to know.

 

He spat out an impressive stream of expletives and threw himself up the next set of stairs with renewed urgency.

 

________

 

**19.37 GST**

 

Kylo had squeezed himself into the officer’s uniform and opened the door to see Rey’s eyes bulge as she scanned him from top to bottom and back again, without making any attempt to conceal what she was doing. He would have given anything to know what was going through her mind at that moment, but now was not the time for those kind of thoughts.

 

“I’m going to find Hux,” he said, contempt suddenly thickening his voice at the mere thought of the dreadful man.

 

“OK,” Rey said, “but Leia wants him kept alive.”

 

“We’ll see about that,” he said darkly. “What are you going to do?” he asked, as he focused his intense gaze on her.

 

“The others are here, so I need to find them before I do anything else,” she shrugged.

 

A shrill alarm interrupted their conversation and Rey flinched in discomfort at the din. “Lockdown?” she asked when the noise abated, frowning slightly.

 

Kylo nodded, and resumed the conversation as if nothing had happened. “I’d recommend breaking into Hux’s room,” he said, then stopped again as the distant booms of closing blast doors prevented speech again. “He’s hiding something in there,” he continued.

 

They stalked along the corridor until they came to the first blast door. Kylo raised his hand and concentrated the force on the complex locking mechanisms within the heavy durasteel door. After a few moments of watching him grimace and scowl at it, Rey also focused her attention on the task, and their joint efforts successfully manipulated the panoply of puzzle-like bolts and moving parts, finally raising the obstruction.

 

“Just how many of these doors are there?” Rey asked wearily.

 

“Hundreds,” Kylo sighed.

 

Three more later, and Rey lost her patience.

 

“Sod it!” she fumed, and the air was suddenly seared by the soaring blue blade of her lightsaber, held aloft in readiness for an attack on the recalcitrant door.

 

Kylo’s eyes nearly popped out of his head in surprise and, with lightning reflexes, he grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her towards him. "Oi!" she squealed as she hurtled into his chest, but she didn't really struggle, and he felt her watching him as he examined the new weapon. Holding her firmly against him with one arm while the other still gripped the wrist holding the hilt, they looked as though they were engaged in a bizarre dance as Kylo tried to get a proper look at the blade. Rey started resisting again and, from somewhere around his collarbone, a muffled "gerroff!" was audible.

 

He wasn't finished yet, wanting to pour over every detail of the weapon's engineering. "Be patient!" he grumbled in jest, unable to help a small smile at her, frankly, half-hearted efforts to extract herself from him. She stilled again and, for a few moments, their eyes were wide as they both examined their respective curiosities.

 

“How did you fix this?” Kylo asked as he eventually released her, a slight edge to his tone.

 

“Long story,” Rey replied knowing there wasn’t time to explain now. However, she couldn’t resist the temptation to show off a little. She effortlessly attached the hilt to the end of another lightsaber, swiftly igniting the second saber’s red blade, before expertly spinning the double-bladed weapon around in a blur of purple. Extinguishing the sword and disconnecting the two parts, she handed him the red-bladed end. “You can borrow this until you get yours back,” she said.

 

Kylo’s face wore juxtaposing expressions of child-like wonder and expert assessment as he swirled the blade in front of him, trying it on for size, gauging its handling and movement. Catching Rey’s quiet observation, he extinguished the blade and smiled appreciatively, his lack of comment saying more than any verbal praise could.

 

“Would you care to do the honours?” he asked, gesturing towards the stubborn door. Rey wore an exaggerated grin of maniacal proportions as she hacked at the door gleefully.

 

________

 

**19.40 GST**

 

Phasma luxuriated within the plush setting of the new executive lounge on the top level. Hux had secretly commissioned it two months ago in anticipation of his promotion, and it had been left uncompleted as funds were now so tight. No one even knew about it, so he would be the only person likely to rudely interrupt her fun, and she could definitely deal with _him._

 

She’d spent the morning stocking her hide-out with vital provisions, as well as a few luxury items. She had no clothes of her own and her earlier inspection of the laundry rooms offered nothing suitable in her size, so she’d hastily grabbed a random sack of clean garments and intended to fashion something from them. Thanks to Hux’s paranoia, the lounge had access to comms and holos of every main area of the ship, so she’d had a great time watching the chaos unfold as she drank wine and nibbled on the Treballian truffles she’d stolen from Hux’s personal pantry in the officers’ kitchen.

 

Once the blast doors were open again, she'd even be able to direct the stormtroopers to Hux from the control panel in the lounge, if she so wished.

 

The ship was now in lockdown and she didn’t care – she had no intention of going anywhere…yet. All she had to do was wait.

 

________

 

**19.45 GST**

 

No one greeted the Libertine as it docked into the Finalizer’s landing bay. Finn and Rose sat closely together, viewing the ghostly scene as their yacht drifted into the cavernous hangar, suspiciously devoid of First Order personnel.

 

The landing bay, as well as all exits and entry points aboard the Finalizer, had been closed for 20 minutes. Rose had communicated with Cobain on their approach, who’d informed them that they’d have to wait for the hangar’s vast doors to open before they could gain admission. The small collection of scruffy Resistance ships, incongruously varied in style and size, had loitered by the entrance like a gang of thuggish misfits.

 

They’d all been appraised of the situation, but Rose could still not quite believe it. As she landed the yacht, she warily scanned the peripheral edges of the vast space, detecting no flashes of light catching on polished stormtrooper armour or glints of blasters engaged for attack.

 

Deeming it safe enough to disembark, she lowered the ramp. She gave Finn a quick hug and, together, they gingerly stepped into enemy territory, blasters raised, watchful and alert. But it was eerily quiet, too easy. Casting a nervous glance at each other, they walked towards the Millennium Falcon to greet Leia and Chewie.

 

Five pilots alighted from a very battered assortment of X-Wing fighters and joined the confounded congregation at the Falcon’s base. Faces turned towards their General for instruction.

 

The plan had initially been for Cobain to enable their safe landing on the ship, then their safe passage to fit everyone with either stormtrooper armour or military uniforms - those chosen for stormtrooper armour had complained vociferously about that, especially Finn. Rey would then liaise with them and the other resistance spies about capturing Hux and imprisoning him until Leia was able to communicate with Kylo Ren, if at all. But the circumstances had changed now.

 

Cobain had advised them that the situation was so volatile it was almost safer to march in freely as a member of the Resistance than as First Order personnel, although they’d snorted in derision at that. He’d also told them that both Hux and Phasma were hiding somewhere on the ship and that _no one_ was currently in charge of the First Order.

 

Beads of sweat flecked across Finn’s forehead. He had a really bad feeling about this.

 

________

 

**19.47 GST**

 

Rey charged towards the landing bay, having just parted from Kylo. They had paced and hacked their way through a labyrinth of corridors until they reached one of the emergency exit stairwells. Through the bond, Kylo transmitted the whereabouts of Hux’s quarters and placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

 

“Stay in touch,” was all he'd said, before stalking towards the stairs and melting his way through the security door with Rey's lightsaber. 

 

Rey had been on the Finalizer for 12 hours now, sneaking through its busy corridors and hiding from sight of everyone on the ship. After lockdown, the journey through the various passages with Kylo had been alarmingly empty but, as she approached the loading bay, she spotted a group of stormtroopers striding casually but aggressively towards her friends. She was so used to seeing the soldiers march stiffly in their regimented lines that their unusual gait unsettled her more than the intention behind their threatening advance.

 

She stealthily scampered behind a stack of cargo, watching and listening intently, ready to intervene if things turned hostile.

 

Things turned hostile pretty quickly.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> You seriously have no idea how hard it was for me not to have Kylo flashing his bum at everyone on the Finalizer... I may actually have to draw a picture of that and put it on Tumblr (check out my other "art" @soylent-shirl - apologies for the shameless self-promotion). 
> 
> I hope to post the next chapter within the next couple of weeks. It'll be called 'Reunited' - but who does that refer to, I wonder? And will it go well? We find out a bit about Hux's background too. 
> 
> Massive thanks to Butterfingers for beta reading my nonsense and pointing out painfully obvious errors that I totally didn't notice. Check out her story, 'We Belong' - it's really heating up now. And thanks to Miranda13 for inspiring me to write in the first place (check out her 'Love Is A Hurricane' too). I totally kriffing love AO3!
> 
> Thanks for all your comments and kudos, it all makes me very happy


	8. Reunited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey greets the Resistance, Finn meets the stormtroopers and Hux comes face-to-face with Kylo. Which do you suppose is the happier reunion?

**Day 1 – 19.48 GST**

 

The clatter of multiple boots announced the unwelcome presence of stormtroopers.

 

Finn automatically raised his blaster, but quickly realised the futility of his action as the army of black and white soldiers marched towards them, their advance rapid and their engaged weapons exhibiting a clear indication their intent.

 

Finn risked a swift sideways glance towards Rose, whose face wore a defiant terror as she glared at their challengers, and raised his hands and weapon above his head in a gesture of compliance. There were ten of them, one of them a commander, judging by the orange pauldron over the right shoulder. Behind Finn stood eight Resistance members, none of whom were able to match his knowledge of the First Order military, so he deemed it his task, and his alone, to communicate with them. He took a step forward.

 

The hostile troopers brought their weapons up and fired.

 

“No!” Rose shrieked, instinctively leaping forward to protect him.

 

No shots had reached their target, Rose calmed and refocused as she stood next to Finn. The sound of more blaster fire echoed around the huge landing bay in a rapid chorus of high-pitched reports, but the Resistance members remained untouched. Finn lowered his weapon and stood defiantly with Rose, refusing to allow his surprise to reach his face. If the others were confounded by the turn of events, their expressions didn’t show it. Whatever was going on here, he was now totally winging it.

 

The stormtroopers, however, were clearly spooked, looking accusingly at their weapons as though there was something wrong with them before raising them, ready for another attack.

 

Ignoring the blasters trained on him, Finn stepped forward again. If he’d been wearing his old helmet with its built-in data reader, he would have been able to identify the leader, who silently returned his scrutiny for a few moments, before barking, “Who the hell are you?”

 

“Yeah, about that,” Finn started. “You know me as FN-2187. But that’s not my name any-” He was forcefully cut off before he could finish his sentence. The stormtrooper grabbed him by the collar and yanked him closer, pulling him up until his feet almost left the floor.

 

“You -” the soldier fumed, “ _you’re_ the one who got us all punished!”

 

At such close proximity, Finn was forced to look into the grey plexiglass eyepieces of the stormtrooper, seeing nothing but the reflection of his own grimacing face.

 

“Let him go!” A frail but authoritative voice spoke out, and everyone turned to look towards Leia. “I suggest you place the blame on Armitage Hux - _he_ implemented the punishment. It has nothing to do with anyone else.”

 

The grip around the neck of Finn’s shirt remained tight, still so uncomfortably close to his captor that his exhalations were now condensing on the commander’s armour in misty patches.

 

“Armitage Hux alone is responsible for the stormtrooper reconditioning programme,” Leia continued firmly.

 

Finn could feel the stormtrooper’s glare sliding from him to Leia and back again as though he was tossing her words back and forth in his mind, unsure whether he wanted to believe her more than he wanted to throttle Finn. Relief washed over him as the grip on his shirt finally loosened and the stormtrooper reluctantly lowered him back to his feet again. Finn readjusted his clothing, drew in a steadying breath, and continued. “We’re here to arrest him for war crimes,” he croaked. “And Phasma,” he added with a bitter edge to his voice.

 

The stormtrooper regarded him for a moment, before turning to face his team and gesturing at two of them to join him. He turned back to Finn. “What are you going to do with him?”

 

“Put him on trial,” Leia answered without hesitation.

 

“ _We_ want him,” the stormtrooper snarled.

 

“Why?” Finn asked, thinking he might already know the answer.

 

“To hold him prisoner, until he gives us better treatment.”

 

Finn sighed and shook his head.

 

“You mean you’re gonna blackmail him into doing what you want? You _know_ he’d rather die than give into demands like that! And,” Finn waved his hands in frustration, “he’ll just manipulate some idiot into letting him go...”

 

Finn shook his head and sighed again. When the Commander still didn’t seem convinced, Finn pointed his finger at the trooper’s chest. “Believe me, he’ll be blasting your asses again before you know it, with double the fury. Let _us_ take him off your hands and we’ll make sure he never sees the outside of a prison cell again.”

 

Finn did his best to radiate a confidence he didn’t feel as the commander looked back at his two sidekicks, who only shrugged in response as dejection slowly infiltrated their initial hostility.

 

“Let _us_ capture him,” Finn coaxed. “We can help you get better conditions.” He adopted what Rose once described as his _used speeder salesman_ grin. “That’s one of the reasons we’re here, man. The way we see it, if any of you want to leave, like I did, then you should be free to go! We’ll do our best to make sure there’s a proper programme in place to retrain and reintegrate you into civilian life. If you want to stay, that’s cool too, but the _whole_ stormtrooper programme needs reform.”

 

Dispensing with the grin, he now looked the commander in the eye, trooper-to-trooper, respectfully silent as he allowed his provocative words to sink in. He could almost hear their brains struggling to grapple with the unprecedented concept of _choice._

 

His anxiety prickled uncomfortably as the silence stretched on, his unease growing with every creak of armour, each squeak of boots on the polished floor, the breath of each person in the room, modulated or otherwise… but then the stormtrooper’s shoulders finally slumped in resignation.

 

“What d’you say?” Finn prompted, risking a small smile. “Do I get to whip Phasma’s giant shiny butt, or not?” 

 

“Come with me,” the commander said.

 

Finn glanced at Poe, who gave his permission by single nod of the head.

 

“OK, but this ain’t gonna be easy,” he said, his mouth suddenly dry as he contemplated the daunting challenge ahead. Focusing back on the commander, he said, “I’ll need a couple of our guys, and General Dameron will need to come as well.”

 

The stormtrooper looked Poe up and down for a moment, before shrugging and nodding. Things _must_ be desperate if they were prepared to lead their enemy’s general right into the nucleus of the failing military organisation.

 

“You lot,” the commander’s voice charmingly addressed the remaining members of the Resistance, “stay here, and don’t try anything funny!” He motioned a command to the remaining soldiers, who formed an arc around the small group, weapons raised. Finn gestured to Snap and Jetta to join him and threw a nervous glance at Rose, before marching away with the small assembly.

 

Finn felt his gut clench with nerves. This had been too easy.

 

 

________

 

 

**19.50 GST**

 

Cobain covertly whispered into his wristcomm.

 

“Ballie, they’re in, and they’ve just separated into two different groups.”

 

“Is that good or bad?”

 

“Not sure yet. I’ve shut down the monitors on the bridge so no one can see what’s going on.”

 

“Won’t that cause suspicion?”

 

“Yes, so we haven’t got long. Can you look for Poe and Leia, and bring them up here? I think they must be heading towards level 7.”

 

“OK.”

 

“Marene is on our side now and she’s -”

 

“Who’s that?” Ballion asked suspiciously.

 

“Er...General Enerys.”

 

“On first-name terms now, are we?” she teased.

 

Cobain cleared his throat. “Well, she’s rounding up the other generals up for a meeting.”

 

“We’re not ready for that!” Ballion almost screeched. “We have to get the stormtroopers organised first - we’ll need the muscle behind us in case it all goes wrong. This could be a disaster...”

 

________

 

**19.56 GST**

 

As soon as the footsteps of Finn and his entourage could no longer be heard, Rey stepped out of the shadows. Before the stormtroopers could react, she raised a hand and spoke with smooth assurance.

 

“Lower your weapons and stand at ease.” The troopers looked at each other then took up relaxed positions as they lowered their weapons. She approached her friends, beaming.

 

“I’m so glad to see you!” Rose grinned as Rey hugged her. “Are you OK?”

 

“Yes. Just a bit hungry,” Rey smiled and turned towards Leia.

 

“No change there, then,” Leia said warmly. “How on Alderaan did you manage to deflect all those blaster shots?”

 

“I may have used a little force push to aim them at the TIE fighters tethered to the dock above you,” she shrugged.

 

Leia rolled her eyes and scoffed. Rey’s arms wrapped around her for a hug, feeling the churning anxiety rolling off her in powerful crescents, and Rey knew what the mother wanted to know. “I found him,” she whispered into her hair. “He’s willing to try and help.”

 

Leia looked up with an expression Rey had never seen before - hope, relief, pride... her face so enlivened and radiant that Rey glimpsed the ghost of the older woman’s youthful beauty for the briefest moment. A smile stretched across Leia’s face as she pulled away from the embrace.

 

“We need to get moving,” the retired general said, her back straightening with resolve. With the others gone, Chewie, C’ai, Kimgor and Rose now looked to her for instruction. “Can you find out from them what’s been going on?” she asked of Rey, nodding towards the stormtroopers grouped uneasily in the centre of the landing bay. “We’ll also need them to guide us.”

 

No Jedi tricks were necessary – the soldiers were more than ready to talk.

 

The small band of rebels silently listened as the troopers recounted the events of the last couple of standard hours, relaying Hux’s intention to punish them, and their furious response and directionless quest for revenge and resolution.

 

Words freely gushed from the soldiers, making it hard to untangle one piece of information from another, but the overriding message became clear - there were no proper leaders in the revolt. Instead, the soldiers had formed disparate groups, seeking retribution as they saw fit.

 

They told tales of enraged stormtroopers taking higher ranking soldiers and officers hostage, or killing them just because they didn’t like them. Murdering colleagues who’d been identified as traitorous snitches, and rival gangs of soldiers finally getting the chance to fight each other to the death now that neither Hux nor Phasma were breathing down their necks with their constant threat of reconditioning.

 

Some soldiers had vented their rage by destroying random parts of the ship, particularly the reconditioning unit, looting the kitchens after having been ill-fed for so long and freeing fellow troopers, whether or not they’d been justifiably imprisoned.

 

Hundreds had been killed in the uprising and millions of credits-worth of damage had been wrought.

 

Leia, whose face appeared to have aged again, shook her head sadly. “What a mess,” she sighed.

 

They all stood in stunned silence for a few moments, the mood heavy. Leia straightened and looked at the faceless stormtroopers.

 

“The First Order is currently without a leader,” she said, “so we need to find a way to re-establish some kind of control. _We_ are not your enemy,” she emphasised firmly, the lines on her forehead creasing as she frowned at them. “It’s our intention to improve things for you but we’ll need to speak to your generals. I need to find my son first, but then will you show us to the bridge?”

 

One of the stormtroopers stepped forward. “We can show you where the bridge is but I’m afraid we can’t help you with your son.”

 

Leia nodded, “That’ll do.”

 

The X—Wing pilots slipped out of their cumbersome flight suits and discussed who would stay behind to keep an eye on the Resistance ships - C’ai Threnalli drew the short straw for that particular task. The rest of the group found themselves being wordlessly escorted across the empty expanse of the landing bay and into the ship.

 

As soon as they reached a crossroad in one of the corridors, Rey directed the group of troopers and Resistance members towards the walkway where she’d parted from Kylo earlier. As they drew nearer, a sudden spike of rage tore through her with an intensity that drained the colour from her face. A quick glance at Leia confirmed that she’d felt it too.

 

She leaned towards Leia and quietly whispered, “I think we’d better hurry.”

 

________

 

**20.04 GST**

 

Kylo scaled the stairs three at a time, stretching the fabric of his ridiculously tight First Order uniform beyond its functional capacity.

 

He knew where the bastard was. The man was frantically running up the stairs, having heard him approach. As he neared, Hux turned his head and Kylo felt no sympathy as he registered the despair in the man’s eyes and the bleeding wounds painted across his face. The absolute terror stabbing at the quivering man screamed through the force, grating against Kylo’s senses.

 

“You!” Hux spluttered in a high-pitched squeak. “How…?”

 

Kylo snarled wolfishly as Hux stumbled, incapacitated by fear. Kylo reached into Hux’s mind and felt indecision flash through the man’s panic – would it be better to see the face of his executioner or not? Dark satisfaction rose up inside Kylo at the sight of the quailing man, who was apparently unable to peel his terrified gaze away. Hux's back now faced the rising stairs behind him and, in his frantic attempt to climb them backwards, he lost his footing and fell onto them, still looking up at Kylo as he continued to inch his way up the steps on his bruised behind. All sense of dignity and grandeur was lost. The man knew he was about to die.

 

Kylo’s rage burned and blistered as he loomed over the fallen general cowering before him. He had every intention of killing him on the spot, whatever Leia had requested. He’d waste no time on this little shit – no final speech or prolonged death for him, he didn’t deserve it. It’d be over in a second and Kylo would then be free to find Rey and get as far away from this diseased ship as possible.

 

He recalled Hux’s treachery, his disgusting sucking-up to Snoke, his backstabbing and lies, his plan to execute Rey, the _millions_ of deaths perpetrated by him, absolutely _everything…_ and the force whipped and hissed around him in focused fury, howling in its desire to release its terrible power. He raised his hand towards the whimpering coward on the ground...

 

_______

 

**20.04 GST**

 

Rey had led the bizarre group of Resistance members and stormtroopers to the stairwell, sensing the savage brutality of Kylo’s state of mind. The stairwell had felt like a vortex of rage as she’d hugged Leia, Chewie and Kimgor goodbye. Although she believed Leia may not entirely be exempt from her son’s deadly wrath, the mother had insisted Rey continue her mission.

 

The stormtroopers were aware of Leia’s intention to find her son, but they didn’t know his identity. If they had, they would certainly have been eager to put considerable distance between themselves and the prospect of bumping into the fearsome spectre of Kylo Ren.

 

Rey and Rose left the soldiers waiting for Leia by the stairwell entrance, and the two women made their way to Hux’s quarters, winding their way through ship's passageways towards another set of stairs in their quest to reach the top level.

 

 

________

 

 

**20.05 GST**

 

He was right. He knew this was how he was going to die. Not a rampaging Jedi, not a bloody ridiculous stormtrooper riot... _this._

 

Ren had raised his hand, his expression speaking of murderous savagery, and Hux thought he glimpsed an angry glow of energy sparking within the beast’s gloved hand. A thunderous rumble echoed menacingly within the stairwell, a sinister sound that promised diabolical suffering. For the third time that day, Hux found himself facing death. He’d long ceased caring about preserving his dignity, and sobbed.

 

No longer able to look at the promise of vengeance standing before him, he instinctively leaned against the stair wall, curling into an upright foetal position. He placed his head in his hands and braced for dear life.

 

Now dissociated from the deadly reality facing him, dreadful memories involuntarily flashed through his mind at lightning speed. He was forced to watch his cruel father vent his raging disgust onto him, pounding him with drunken fists as torrents of verbal abuse rained down on his beaten body. He saw his desperate need to impress the despicable man, to achieve and surpass at any cost. He saw raw, naked _hatred,_ festering and insidiously blackening his soul as his ruthless ambitions grew in tandem with his desire to control, to eradicate deviance, to rule... to make something out of his shitty life. But through the bruising torture of these memories, he faced a lingering pain of a very different kind as he recalled the face of his forbidden lover. The one that he’d lost.

 

He mumbled the man’s name into his coat sleeves. Finding courage in the most unlikely place, Hux lowered his hands and slowly raised his head to face his executioner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you liked it. The next chapter should be up soon, and it'll be a mixture of rioting emotions and extreme silliness as Rose and Rey go through Hux's chambers in search of damning evidence.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr @ColliderOfHadron, I'm always happy to have a chat. 
> 
> Thanks, massive appreciation and hats off to the wonderful Butterfingers for beta editing my story. Me: "aaargh! This chapter's a load of pants! Help meeee!" Butterfingers: (*goes silent whilst she's reading it*) "OK, why don't you try this (*suggests something great*)". Me: "You've saved it! May I bestow upon you my eternal thanks!" (*skips happily off into the horizon. Until the next bugger of a chapter...*)


	9. Thwarted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this out, I've been ridiculously busy editing for proper writers!
> 
> Things get a tiny bit grisly and also a bit silly in this chapter, and it's quite a long one, so please grab a coffee, cuppa or glass of something exciting and I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> For those hanging on for a proper Kylo/Rey interaction, it should be coming up within the next couple of chapters - we're getting there slowly... and hopefully by the end of the story pretty much everyone will be at it (except Leia, bless her, cos that would just be wrong)

 

**Day 1 – 20.06 GST**

 

“STOP!” The voice of a saviour boomed through the darkening haze of murder. “That’s _enough_!” Leia ordered, with a power and force disproportionate to her diminutive size.

 

A long distant memory of severe reprimand ripped through the storm of Kylo’s deadly intent, causing his head to whip round in surprise. Leia caught the briefest essence of guilt from him. In that moment, it was as though time had spooled backwards and he was suddenly a child again, caught in the act of teaching their neighbour’s four year old Shyriiwook swearwords.

 

“Mother,” he greeted through clenched teeth. The salutation was uttered automatically, out of a long-ingrained sense of basic courtesy; however, his tone sounded anything but civil. He was clearly furious at the interruption.

 

“I’m glad to see you still have _some_ manners,” she wryly, but her eyes were contrastingly full of hope as she craned her neck to look up at him. Having completed the entirety of his exchange, he stormed towards the nearest exit, straight past her, without further comment or eye contact. Not wanting to waste one precious second of seeing her son, Leia's eyes helplessly followed him as he passed. Her heart lurched painfully as she noticed the dark circles shadowing his eyes, the sallow complexion, the heavy countenance. Years of misery and turmoil screamed through the force at her. And the First Order clearly weren’t looking after him properly – he’d completely outgrown his uniform.

 

His frenetic pace slowed as he reached Chewie, and it was now Kylo's turn to crane his neck to look up at the old family friend as he walked past. The Wookie growled angrily at him, but there was no threat in his tone. A few long strides, and her son was gone.

 

Not one to allow sentiment to impede on matters of state, Leia turned back towards the errant general and got straight down to business.

 

“General Hux,” she directed to the man on the stairs, who had stood up and now looked at her in stunned incredulity. “Your coup has _failed_. The First Order is leaderless and falling apart as we speak. Your actions have greatly contributed towards some of the most horrific acts of atrocity in galactic history and you’ll be put on trial as soon as the Grand Jury convene. Until then, you’ll be imprisoned on this ship. Chewbacca here will escort you to your cell.”

 

Suddenly regaining his sense of outrage, Hux spat, “I’m not going _anywhere._ Especially with... _that!”_ He nodded towards the Wookie, who growled a dire threat at him in response. Hux flinched and took a few steps backwards up the stairs.

 

“I suggest you comply if you’d like your limbs to remain attached to your body,” Leia said flatly.

 

Hux’s face reddened with growing fury. “I will not accept this!” His voice rose in haughty protest. “I am _not_ going in a cell!”

 

“You’re not in a position to make demands,” she snapped.

 

“I really don’t see why that’s necessary, this is Ren’s fault and...”

 

Leia’s voice cut through his complaint with an icy assertiveness. “The carnage going on out there falls on _your_ shoulders,” she said firmly, a streak of anger finally showing through her calm facade. “If you shit where you eat, you’ll eventually end up eating it.”

 

Ignoring Hux’s open mouthed surprise at her choice of words, she turned to Chewbacca. “Chewie, would you mind doing the honours?”

 

“No!” Hux’s clipped voice argued. “I must get back to my room! Can’t I at least be placed under guard in my chambers?”

 

“Not if you’d like to see the end of the day,” she replied darkly.

 

Hux decided to change tack.

 

“What do you intend to do with Ren?” he challenged, as the Wookie grabbed hold of his upper arm.

 

“That’s not your concern.”

 

“He was the one that ruined everything! He couldn’t find his own arse with both hands and a medi-droid!” he shrieked, clearly forgetting her son’s lineage. Chewbacca roared and shook him aggressively, tightening his already circulation-blocking grip on the man’s upper arm. Hux grimaced, paling significantly.

 

Leia stepped as close to the abhorrent man as she could countenance, his defiance withering gratifyingly under her fierce glare. Despite her utter boiling fury, she noticed him visibly deflate, and the preposterous image only slightly tempered her ire.

 

“Listen, _General,_ ” she snarled, proving beyond doubt that she was indeed Kylo Ren’s mother. _“_ I had the misfortune of meeting your father years ago. Despite his _innumerable_ shortcomings, I believe you were brought up to conduct yourself with greater decorum than that. _Don’t_ push your luck,” she warned, before turning to her friend. “Chewie, please take this man to the cells on the basement level.” She looked back at Hux. “I’ll arrange some bacta packs for your face. I’ll talk to you again tomorrow morning.”

 

“Unhand me, you great oaf!” Hux yelled at Chewbacca, struggling to prise his arm away. He turned to look back at Leia as he was forcibly dragged away. “What gives _you_ the authority? The Grand Jury haven’t appointed you! They appointed _me_ as Supreme Leader.”

 

“We’ll talk tomorrow, General.” Leia repeated wearily as she waved her hand dismissively at the irksome man. She was getting a headache.

 

Leia updated Poe on her wristcomm and carefully descended the stairs, step-by-step. She turned to Kimgor, who’d been standing silently behind Chewbacca throughout the whole ordeal, shrugged, then slowly lowered herself to sit on the stairs. As they waited in silence for Ballion to find them and guide them to the others, she pulled on every scrap of strength to ignore the tears stinging her eyes.

 

________

 

 

**20.10 GST**

 

Phasma leaned forward on the edge of the plush executive lounge sofa, her eyes suddenly alert and attentive as she scanned the screens in front of her. She’d actually dropped off for a few minutes, but in her sleepy haze she could have sworn one of the monitors had just shown Kylo Ren storm out of an emergency stairwell exit, nearly knocking a group of stormtroopers out of the way like skittles.

 

Her panicked eyes flicked from screen to screen, suddenly frantic in their search for anything else she may have foolishly missed. She looked at the loading bay screen, attracted by the bizarre collection of craft now gracing the monitor, and her blood froze as she realised she must have been asleep for more than 30 standard minutes. She leaned closer to the security screen. The x-wings, freighter and luxury yacht were guarded by the strangest, most butt-ugly looking alien she’d ever seen in her life and she couldn’t resist zooming in to get a better look at its elongated face, with its fleshy tendrils dangling from the end. She’d never actually seen an Abnedo before.

 

Switching back to the screen monitoring the stairwell exit from which Kylo had burst only moments ago, she now watched in disbelief as a huge, hairy beast emerged and forcefully escorted a clearly frightened and protesting Hux along the corridor.

 

A dark shadow caught her attention further along the passageway on the same level, coursing through the ship with a posture so tense and gait so aggressive she could almost feel the anger from 19 floors above. Yes, Kylo Ren had definitely escaped.

 

Her eyes were then drawn back to the stairwell, alerted by the movement of a small, frail lady struggling to keep pace with two fair-haired women, one young and one middle-aged, as they moved in the opposite direction to the route taken by the hairy monster and Hux.

 

Glancing at the other monitors, she spotted someone else and tensed. Someone whose face she’d hoped she’d never see again.

 

________

 

**20.11 GST**

 

Finn’s gut was squirming.

 

His stormtrooper escorts had now resumed their formation march, and his stride automatically fell in step to the long-ingrained rhythm. Cobain had summoned Poe to the bridge, so it was only Jetta and Snap who now paced gamely beside him.

 

The Resistance had endured considerable losses and hardship over the previous six months, resulting in dwindling resources and a reduced membership. They’d been training and plotting with such intensity that the apparent ease of their current predicament felt surreal. They now found themselves being carried along the ailing veins of their enemy’s capital, towards the artery that enabled the whole beast to function: Level 7. The home of the military might, whose intimidation, pillaging and efficient weaponry enabled the dictatorship’s survival. The stolen children who’d been trained, exploited and manipulated to achieve one objective: broaden and maintain the oppressive grip of the First Order.

 

Now that the blast doors had been raised, the group easily paced in excess of a mile of ominously silent passageways, bereft and desolate without the usually constant march of bounding footsteps and industrious activity. As the group neared the mess hall, Finn's eyes nervously surveyed the clusters of exposed wires hanging listlessly from wall sockets, the broken lighting panels flickering distractingly along the length of the corridor, the abandoned pieces of battered armour strewn across the floor. He accidentally kicked something and his eyes followed the small, light object as it glided and spun soundlessly across the polished floor, coming to a gentle halt in a doorway to one of the dormitories. His eyebrows rose as he realised it was Hux’s hat. The corridor ahead looked like an obstacle course of furniture: mattresses, bedding, broken chairs…

 

It wasn’t long before he saw the bodies.

 

Their numbers increased as they drew closer to the mess hall, some dead, some barely alive, but all missing various pieces of armour, weak spots exposed, exploited and decimated. Finn’s stomach lurched again.

 

The commander, MU-3301, had commentated throughout the sickening tour, seemingly as appalled by the act of having to articulate the horrors of the previous hour as the actual carnage itself. When the lockdown warning had sounded over 30 standard minutes ago, many stormtroopers had blatantly disobeyed protocol and, despite their uncoordinated revolt, they’d managed to occupy some of the most important parts of the ship. And the First Order would eventually be crippled without their cooperation.

 

Finn realised something. This wasn’t just a riot - it was a revolution. And the Resistance had arrived at exactly the right time.

 

________

 

**20.12 GST**

 

Kylo Ren was livid. He raged through the corridor in long strides, jaw clenched as he determined to maintain his fury. How dare his mother interfere with his plans for Hux! The nerve of the woman.

 

The intense bubble of his rage popped as a dark, penetrating realisation fell heavily over his shoulders, slowing his frenzied pace. His mother looked _old._ Frail. As he’d stormed past her in the stairwell, her eyes had looked up at him and, for that split second, he’d caught a glimpse of the hope, hurt, disappointment, love and guilt flooding the depths of her eyes. The pain of this realisation lacerated his spirit with a searing intensity. His emotions threatened to swirl out of control again, and he instinctively opened himself to the force, craving Rey’s soothing presence, as he’d done countless times over the previous six months.

 

He felt her warmth ease some of the raging turmoil until he gradually calmed, as he bolted purposefully towards his quarters to change into more appropriate attire.

 

________

 

 

**20.15 GST**

 

Very little was said as they continued their journey – Rey wasn’t a particularly chatty person anyway, but the habitually gregarious Rose was silenced by an ominous dark mist troubling her thoughts. She found the eerie silence of this giant enemy _coffin_ disconcerting, and sensed the overwhelming misery and despair haunting the sanitised walls and floors of the ship. She wouldn’t feel safe until she, Finn and her friends were all off it and as far away from it as possible.

 

Concern constricted her heart as she worried about Finn. She knew he could handle himself but, after she’d lost Paige, she couldn’t bear the thought of grievous harm befalling him. She didn’t think she could lose someone she loved so soon again.

 

Finally out of the corridor, the women slipped through the door to the emergency stairwell. The tall column of stairs seemed to ascend into nothingness above them and both women groaned at the prospect of the punishing climb ahead, and Rose’s sombre mood now turned distinctly grouchy. She _hated_ his kriffing ship and everything it stood for. The torturous climb was laborious, nauseating and monotonous - they had to stop several times to catch their breaths, and Rose had never experienced anything like the stitch stapling her insides together by the time they reached level 10.

 

By the time they reached the top level, Rose’s muscles were in spasm and she didn’t think she’d be able to move another centimetre, let alone walk nearly halfway along the ship again. Her legs seemed to have a mind of their own as they shook and jerked unsteadily throughout the rest of their travels.

 

Desperate for distraction, she concentrated on her new surroundings instead. The top level, whilst characteristically austere, offered a slight hint that this was the area for the military elite. The usual harsh illuminations, ubiquitous throughout the rest of the ship, were conspicuously absent here – these corridors were infused with softer lighting. Plush black leather chairs were invitingly situated at various points. The executive corridors shared one thing in common with those of the lower floors, though: they were empty.

 

She was unable to calculate how long it took to reach Hux’s quarters from the stairwell. Rey gently force-opened the door and they nervously entered the wretched man’s chambers.

 

________

 

**20.20 GST**

 

Phasma watched FN-2187 march along the corridor, accompanied by a group of stormtroopers and two others, presumably Resistance members: one a large, bearded man and the other a lithesome, rather beguiling raven-haired young woman. She watched as the group trudged their way into the heart of the ship, biting her lip thoughtfully as she weighed her options.

 

When she’d marched the unconscious Kylo Ren to the detention suite earlier that morning, she’d had no idea that events would spiral out of control at such a devastating rate. So far, it appeared that she may have delayed Hux’s accession, but she hadn’t yet succeeded in getting him killed.

 

And the arrival of the Resistance certainly meant trouble for her, particularly FN-2187. The little squirt may have turned out to be a deplorable traitor, but she reluctantly had to concede that she’d underestimated him. He’d somehow managed to get the better of her twice now and she needed to make sure it didn’t happen again.

 

It was time to amend her plans.

 

________

 

 

**20.45 GST**

 

The stormtrooper mess hall was alive with activity.

 

FN-2187 and MU-3301 had quickly managed to get a team of soldiers together to help clear the hall of debris, find new tables and get the word around about yet another assembly taking place that day. One team were tracking down the kitchen staff to persuade them to prepare refreshments in one of the functional kitchens, another group were gathering medi-droids, nurses, anyone with any medical knowledge, to assist the wounded, whilst another team were deployed to fix the destroyed dormitories. A small group had started solemnly moving the dead bodies and cleaning droids had been liberated from Hux’s earlier hiding place to tidy up after them.

 

CT-8666, now self-named Cortay, was a stormtrooper foremost. But only a handful of people knew him as one of the three Resistance spies who’d been working undercover for months. He’d been instrumental in organizing the clean-up operation, whilst offering hope to the stormtroopers by spreading the news that FN-2187 had returned to help them.

 

Cortay had been desperate to quit the First Order for months, and Finn’s defection had inspired him to finally make his move. Discreet enquiries had led him to Cobain, who’d persuaded him to hang on a little longer and help the Resistance from within.

 

When they’d “captured” the decoy Rey, it had been his mission to ensure that no one noticed the real Rey stealing aboard the shuttle and, right now, he was standing in front of the Jedi’s best friend, his idol.

 

“At ease, man. You’ve done some really great work here,” Finn was saying. “But I have a really important job for you.”

 

He nodded, too overwhelmed by the praise to speak.

 

“Are there any troopers you really trust, and I mean, _really_ trust?”

 

He nodded again.

 

“OK, General Dameron and Leia Organa-Solo are going to meet the First Order generals. I need some of you guys to guard them in case it gets nasty. I dunno what it’s gonna be like there – there might already be hostile guards, so you might have a fight on your hands. Are you up for it?”

 

________

 

**20.45 GST**

 

Poe sat rigidly in a vast, ridiculously well-polished meeting room as he awaited the arrival of the highest ranking First Order generals, dread and foreboding prickling the veins threading his body.  He sighed shakily and wiped the sheen of sweat beading his brow; he was out of his depth and he knew it.

 

He’d tried hard to forget his previous experience aboard the Finalizer, when he’d been beaten by stormtroopers and tortured by Kylo Ren, so was most definitely _not_ grateful for the memory prompt. He wasn’t exactly enamoured with the prospect of lengthy discussions, either - he’d much prefer to be in his X-Wing blowing things up.

 

Anxiously tapping his foot on the floor, he looked at his chrono yet again – he couldn’t understand what was taking Leia so long to join him, and he could really have done with Finn’s help, too. Nobody had responded to his wristcomm communications.

 

He was grateful for the distraction of General Enerys’s chatter, but she spoke faster than rapid fire and her voluminous explanations made his head hurt from the marathon effort required to keep up. Or maybe it was just his nerves fogging his brain, especially as the snippets he _was_ able to comprehend did nothing to ease his rising panic.

 

By the sound of it, civil war was going to break out the moment the First Order generals arrived and he would likely end up in the crossfire.

 

**_______**

 

**20.40 GST**

 

The door to Hux’s chambers slid open to reveal a large living area, decorated in a noticeably different style to the rest of the ship. Whilst the room retained an air of unadorned austerity, occasional architectural details dotted around the room spoke of elegance and refinement. The angular edges of the room were sharpened by striking accents of silver plating, offering the eye both luxury and untouchable hostility. A lingering fragrance of expensive lotions permeated the air with an opulence unbefitting of a military general.

 

Rey uncomfortably scanned the landscape, deeming it exotic by First Order standards, but her uncultured eyes were drawn in particular to the ice blue sofa sprawled across the central living space, its plush seating providing an almost inappropriate degree of comfort as well as a touch of decadence. She didn’t need to pull on the force to imagine where Hux usually sat, as a solitary indentation lowered the cushions on one side of the chair. Even though she’d never actually met the man, she shuddered at the thought of standing in the personal space of the man who’d engineered the destruction of the Hosnian system, killing billions in one deadly blast.

 

Rey glanced at Rose, one eyebrow raised slightly, and recognised her own unease and revulsion mirrored in the face of her friend.

 

“Well,” she started, somewhat shakily. “I suppose we should start looking.”

 

“OK,” Rose said hesitantly, glancing around the large room indecisively.

 

“Maybe you could start over there,” Rey indicated the bedroom and with its en suite ‘fresher.

 

“Oh, kriff, no!” Rose protested. “I really, really don’t want to go in there!”

 

“I can _feel_ something in here,” Rey said, unsure how to explain the pull of the force, as though it was trying to tell her something. “It’s definitely calling me.”

 

Rose looked at her for a few moments, lips pursed. “All right,” she grumbled, begrudgingly stomping in the direction of Hux’s bedchamber. “But I’m totally going to leave a crap in his toilet.”

 

Rey snorted. “Yeah, well, make sure we’ve finished before you do that...”

 

Once Rose had disappeared into the other room, Rey inhaled deeply then exhaled through her nose, freeing her body from tension, her countenance relaxing as she opened her mind to the force. She beckoned it, her hand outstretched in anticipation, and Kylo’s lightsaber flew to her, crashing noisily through a plexiglass cabinet door in a far corner of the room. Her eyes widened in glee as she handled its familiar weight and girth, passing its rigid dimensions from palm to palm as she reacquainted herself with the weapon. She ignited its red blade, swinging and slicing through the air with accomplished precision as her mesmerised eyes followed its powerful arcs of energy.

 

Rose’s intermittent cursing snapped her out of her fascinated reverie and she retracted the blade, hooking it to her belt. A particularly vociferous stream of scorn filtered erratically through to the living room: “... bite his kriffing fingers off ...stuck-up, pompous prick... bastard...needs a good kicking...”

 

Poor Rose. Rey understood how much her friend must detest having to search the personal living space of the man responsible for killing her sister. Rose had even had the misfortune of meeting the dreadful man – he’d loomed over her, smirking disgustingly as he tormented her, leaving Phasma to kill her and Finn. Listening to Rose’s cursing, Rey wondered whether she should have asked Kimgor to help with this particular mission instead, but it had been natural to select her friend. She’d hoped the task would offer Rose some resolution by taking an active role in assisting the man’s downfall, particularly if she was the one to find the damning evidence.

 

Sighing heavily, Rey reasoned that the sooner they achieved their goal, the sooner they’d be able to leave the chambers and its despicable owner’s lingering presence. Assessing the living room to determine a good starting place, she didn’t really know what she ought to be looking for. She guessed she’d know when she found it...

 

________

 

 

**21.15 GST**

 

Hux sat in a grimy cell and loosely pressed two bacta packs to his cheek, having just had his damaged face seen to by a medi-droid. He was terrified that his boyish good looks would be gone, scarred for life, after his face had been ripped apart by that kriffing stormtrooper. If only he’d seen which one it was…

 

His eyes disdainfully roamed the bare, comfortless walls around him, weary of his dismal cell already - he’d only been incarcerated for a standard hour. He sniffed disagreeably, recoiling at the thought that he was occupying the same dingy, dirty space as a real criminal had recently been, until he or she had been released by the rioting stormtroopers earlier.

 

A basic human need nudged uncomfortably at his bladder, which he was stoutly trying to ignore. He also refused to acknowledge the bucket-like contraption that sat at the end of the bed, steadfastly resolving that he was definitely _not_ going to use that.

 

He stood up and peered through the durasteel bars of the cell door to ascertain whether the Wookie was still guarding his cell. He’d reluctantly had to concede to Leia’s better judgement - his cell being watched by stormtroopers would almost definitely have resulted in his grisly death. Instead, she’d arranged for shifts of Resistance members to stand outside. A quick glance confirmed it was still the tall hairy thing outside his cell. No point trying to communicate with it.

 

He hoped the next guard would be someone he could talk to.

 

Someone he could manipulate.

 

________

 

**21.15 GST**

 

 

Rey had found nothing. She’d had to use the force to open just about every cupboard, draw and unit in the room as everything was locked, but all she’d found was clothing, hundreds of pairs of footware in every style of black imaginable, a worryingly large selection of combat knives, a very impressive selection of spirits in decanters, together with a variety of tumblers. A small red light in one of the cabinets had sparked her curiosity - she’d placed her finger over it and flinched in surprise as the room filled with the impassioned strains of a famous space opera about some long ago Mandalorian battle. Rey recognised it because Poe was inclined to play it in his office at times. Of course Hux would like its pompous and militaristic themes.

 

Unsure how to turn it off, she continued her search and discovered a design for a new First Order propaganda poster, showing Hux in a position of power, his fist clenched threateningly, with tiny images of sickeningly adoring minions bearing gormless expressions below his over-inflated smug face.

 

She searched cabinets, cupboards and compartments, eventually finding a stack of holos hidden within the base of the sofa. She painstakingly watched them all, hoping to find evidence of skulduggery. There’d been countless images of one particular man, in poses that bordered on the homoerotic, but nothing worthy of note. Sighing with weariness and disappointment, she slid the holo discs back into the hidden drawer and wondered where she could possibly look next.

 

Rose yelled from the other room. “Rey, come and see this!”

 

Rey dashed in, her hopes rising.

 

“What?” Rey called, finding Rose in the 'fresher. Instead of triumphant discovery, Rose’s face was a picture of amusement, a huge smile plastered across her face and mischief lighting her eyes. “What have you done?” Rey asked suspiciously, recognising the devilish look.

 

“Look at all this!” Rose exclaimed, indicating an eye-level cabinet, its door open to reveal innumerable personal male grooming products.

 

“Ri’a’s shorts!” Rey gaped, grateful for the fatuous distraction from her fruitless search. She leaned forward to examine the orderly rows lined up in the cabinet. “There must be hundreds in there.”

 

“I know,” Rose breathed, picking up the nearest bottle of cologne. “’ _Marauder_ ’,” she read, dramatically. “Why do they always have such invasive names? I mean, there’s one called _‘_ Pillager _’_ here, and _‘_ Viking _’…_ what in Malachor _is_ a viking, anyway?”

 

Rey shrugged. “This one’s called ‘Sith Seduction _’_ ,” she said, reading the label of a rather severe black canister from Canto Bight and grinning. “ _‘_ For the discerning gentleman dedicated to achieving style, elegance and class. Battle competitors with Sith Seduction and claim your victory _.’_ Very classy,” she said, sarcastically.

 

“Not as classy as this one,” Rose giggled, holding up a distinctly tacky plastoid bottle. “’Force Sauce’! I’m surprised Hux has got this one,” she added.

 

“Let’s have a look,” Rey said, reaching out to take it from Rose. “Mother of Moons, listen to this: ‘Do you smell like a Wookie’s armpit? Do you want to score like Luke Skywalker? Keep your hands off your lightsaber and bag yourself some real action with a bona-fide princess! _’”_ She looked at Rose. _“_ Er...does that mean what I think it does?” she asked uncertainly.

 

Rose nodded, her amused face tinged with the briefest hint of pity. She grabbed Maurader and launched a generous squirt of it into the air, causing them to both flap their hands vigorously, frantic to disperse the overwhelming fragrance.

 

“Oh, maker, that stinks. Quick! Get rid of it!” Rose spluttered, giggling slightly.

 

Rey retaliated by blasting way too many blasts of Force Sauce.

 

“Eurgh, it smells like Jabba’s butt!” Rey choked, grabbing a black towel off a very neat stack on a shelf behind her, inadvertently sending the whole lot flying, and using it to waft the smell towards Rose.

 

“You’re dicing with death, young Jedi.” Rose grinned menacingly. “Take that!” and she liberally polluted the air with Pillager.

 

Really laughing now, Rey grabbed another bottle, this time a very expensive-looking bottle from Muunilinst. “Let’s try this one,” she giggled. “What’s it called?” She grimaced at the label, written in a dialect she couldn’t read. “Oh well, it’s got a picture of a really scary man with a long head on it.”

 

She pressed down on the atomizer to squirt it. A bitter odour immediately added to the disagreeable mixture of aromas and they both started coughing.

 

“Kriff, that’s _disgusting_!” Rose wheezed, still managing to giggle through her coughs and exaggerated gags. “Where d’you say it was from? Let’s not go there!”

 

She grabbed another one, a Nabooian cologne called ‘ _Landien Lilac’,_ and shot its fine spray up in the air. The fragrance would have been quite pleasant if it hadn’t clashed so violently with all the other smells.

 

“Aaargh! Stop!” Rey stuttered, laughing so much she could hardly speak. “My eyes are stinging...”

 

In retaliation, she grabbed a can from another shelf, with a cry of, “Take that, Rose ‘ _I smell like Darth Vader’s jockstrap’_ Tico!” but nothing happened as the atomizer seemed to be stuck. She tapped the thing on the sink a couple of times and tried again. Still nothing.

 

“Bum,” she cursed, to which Rose mocked, “ha ha!”

 

Unwilling to be beaten, Rey placed the can on the edge of the sink and pushed heavily down on it with both thumbs. The unfortunate combination of the level at which it was launched, and the fact that it wasn’t actually fragrance at all, resulted in a huge puffy pillow of shaving foam shooting out of the can. It flew in a dribbling arc across the room and landed neatly on Rose’s crotch.

 

That did it. Both women shrieked with laughter, tears rolling down their faces as they lost the ability to stand properly. Rose curled up on the floor and Rey was bent double with a huge stitch, her hand resting on the sink for support as her shoulders shook. The fresher was a complete mess - towels strewn all over the room, miscellaneous bottles abandoned randomly over various surfaces, shaving foam splattered across the floor, and a fog of richly pungent vapours hanging in the air, mingling disagreeably with the pained squawks of the opera drifting in from the living area.

 

This was _not_ what Kylo expected to see when he walked in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a big opera fan...
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please come and say hi or chat to me on Tumblr (@colliderofhadron), or please leave a comment if you liked this chapter. I have no idea how this story comes across - just because it fell out of my head, doesn't necessarily mean I should have allowed it to!
> 
> Many, many thanks to my fantastic beta buddy, Butterfingers (@darthbutterfingers). She has some absolutely amazing ideas, and her fic (We Belong) is becoming a force to be reckoned with.


	10. Organized

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a long time! Hopefully the next chapter will be quicker, as I hope to have this all wrapped up by the New Year, but with 5 chapters to go (and my track record for slow posting so far)...let's see how that goes...
> 
> A lot of thinking happens in this chapter and poor Kylo's emotions are all over the place.
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful Butterfingers (whose 'We Belong' is epic - check it out). Thank you.

**Day 1 - 21.45 GST**

After the bewildering incident in the stairwell, Kylo had returned to his chambers for a quick shower.

He’d allowed the vigorous jets of hot water to crash over him, pinking his skin and scalding the turmoil from his consciousness. The rough strokes of his hands chased the last stubborn patches of bacta from his hair and he emerged from the shower’s billowing vapours a few minutes later, grabbing a towel and drying himself with brisk sweeps. He scrubbed his teeth and shaved with a caution borne of a need to avoid unintentional glimpses of his reflection – he hadn’t been able to look himself in the eye for months.

Eschewing aftershave in favour of haste, he’d speedily dressed and stormed out of his chambers towards Hux’s quarters, mercilessly hounded by the baying voice of his conscience.

The sound of dramatic music and excessive vibrato had greeted him as soon as he’d opened the door, causing him to grimace in distaste. Over the horrendous wailing, he picked up something else – laughter, _feminine_ laughter – and he followed it towards the bedroom area, his intrigue suddenly kindled. He hadn’t heard such an authentic expression of amusement for years.

His first reaction was curiosity. He’d never heard Rey laugh with such abandon, and he was genuinely interested and pleased to hear it. His eyes widened as he tentatively approached the ‘fresher, which looked and smelled as though some kind of unnatural disaster had befallen it, triggering a distant memory of overhearing his mother telling Han about the state of Jabba’s Palace after one of the Hutt’s parties. His lips quirked in amusement as he congratulated himself on his decision to forego the aftershave - in the current climate, it would have only added to the potential for asphyxiation.

The sense of Rey’s high spirits invigorated him, buoying his mood with a levity he seldom experienced these days. A huge surge of affection bloomed in his chest and, for a moment, he submitted to utter enchantment as he watched the little strands of escaped hair merrily bob along her hairline as her body shook with pretty laughter. A primal stirring grew at her gasping, shaking abandonment, the little whimpers she made as she tried to control her mirth...followed by a pang of such potent craving that its ruthless grip physically hurt. He longed to make her laugh so adorably, for her to relish his company in the same natural and carefree way. For Rey to groan and shudder in complete surrender for _him_.

The other woman in the room had noticed him now and was sitting up, her elbows resting on her bent knees as she regarded him from the floor, her face a picture of horror. The air seemed to chill as all mirth was sucked out of the room. They silently regarded each other for a moment, and Kylo grimly witnessed the exact moment that the joyful glint in the woman’s eyes vanished behind a look of abject loathing, striking him down with uncertainty as he stood watching them.

Rey had quickly regained her composure as soon as she’d sensed the stormy emotions lacerating the room, and had glanced at the woman’s stony expression before turning towards him. The smallest hint of laughter still lingered in her expression as her words reached out to him across the bond.

\- _This is Rose. She’s a dear friend._

Kylo’s fears taunted him with dark whispers: he’d never be capable of giving her the same degree of unhindered joy she so easily shared with this Rose woman. His piercing insecurity threatened to twist into a stab of betrayal, but he was unable to articulate this feeling to Rey as he looked at her, his eyes searching hers for understanding. She sensed his turmoil and sent him the warmth and reassurance he never stopped yearning for.

_\- I’m not sure she’ll ever be OK with our friendship, after everything the First Order has done, but please don’t harm her._

Kylo swallowed and gave an almost imperceptible nod, aware that he’d have to countenance many more attitudes of a similar nature now that his circumstances were changing, seemingly by the hour. With that thought, the daunting prospect of another trial loomed darkly over him and, although he believed that it would possibly be conducted properly this time, he was certain the morbid outcome would be the same.

He shelved that thought and instead made an effort to focus on Rey. He still wasn’t used to seeing her in a First Order uniform – she didn’t look particularly comfortable in the rigid outfit and he felt uneasy seeing her in it too, but the garments’ close fit showed off the gentle swell of her curves to perfection. As he watched her reach into her hip bag and fumble about for something, he wondered whether he’d be able to persuade her to abscond with him in his Silencer, tonight. No doubt there would be calls for his execution, but he resolved to fight until he no longer drew breath before he’d allow anyone or anything to steal his future with Rey.

She found what she was looking for and pulled his lightsaber from the depths of her bag, holding it out wordlessly towards him with a small, tight smile. Reaching for the delicate hand presenting his weapon, he deliberately slipped his gloved fingers over hers, making no attempt at subtlety. He firmly clasped her hand around the width of its hilt, and his morbid thoughts were forgotten in a fiery surge of barely-concealed lust as her eyes widened and locked on his.

The other woman in the room cleared her throat very loudly.

“Er...I know I’m not very tall, but I _am_ still here,” Rose piped up, glaring scornfully at the blatant display of foreplay occurring before her disgusted eyes.

Kylo reluctantly relinquished his grip and looked at Rose, who was now standing up. He regarded the odd woman as she stood - she really was very small, only reaching midway between his elbow and his shoulder, about the same height as his mother. He clamped down on the reminder of his meeting with _that woman_ with a brutal ferocity.

“Rose helped me build my new lightsaber,” Rey said, in an attempt to relieve the awkward silence now threatening to join the unsavoury soup of fragrances polluting the air. He nodded in response, his brain vaguely registering this piece of information through his storm of overwhelming need.

“Okaaaay,” Rose said, grimacing slightly. “I’m not going to hang around like a third Sith. We didn’t find anything, so I’m going to shoot.”

She stomped towards the door and he followed her, waving his hand casually towards the continual source of noise as he did so, ending the opera’s tortured refrains.

“Can I escort you to your friends?” Kylo attempted to ask her genially, albeit through gritted teeth.

“You’re not escorting me _anywhere_ ,” Rose snapped coldly, and Kylo found himself in an unintentional and acrimonious stare-off with her for a moment, until Rey intervened.

“Finn’s got his hands full at the moment, he’s talking to the stormtroopers on level 7,” she told her friend. “He’s OK,” she added reassuringly, when she saw Rose’s eyes widen in alarm. “Kat’s been freed, and Ballie’s with Poe - I think they’ve got a meeting with the generals, and they could probably do with your help.”

Rey glanced uneasily at Ben as she relayed this information, well aware that every update conveyed a further rupture to his crumbling empire. She looked at him with sympathy, understanding just how turbulent and unstable his current situation was - within 24 hours, he’d been deposed, imprisoned and freed, his home had been breached by his enemy, the core of his military were rioting and he’d come face-to-face with his mother, whom he’d elected to avoid for over a decade. His entire existence had been shaken beyond recognition, and the cataclysmic changes were only just beginning.

“I don’t really know if I’ll be much use,” Rose was standing by the door, mumbling to herself. Kylo sensed the woman’s aching concern for FN-2187 and her desire to be with the traitor, feeling a flash of empathy for her. But, mostly, he was just absurdly relieved to learn that the two were romantically involved, effectively stifling the agonizing notion that Rey had been conducting some kind of courtship with the man - something that had nagged and bothered him to distraction throughout the last six months.

“Could you take me to Poe then?” she eventually asked Rey. “I don’t know where he is.”

“OK,” Rey replied, then looked up at Ben. He felt her nudge gently against him in the force, sensing a hint of guilt, and he looked at her questioningly.

_\- What?_

_\- You’re not going to like it…_

“What?” he demanded, trepidation suddenly stealing his voice as an icy fear flooded his heart. Every wretched insecurity with which he’d ever battled suddenly crested in an explosion of horror, fear and anger. _What_ wasn’t he going to like? Was she going to leave him again? Had she _lied_ to him?

His chest constricted, he suddenly found it hard to breathe.

How could she do this to him! He took a step towards her and, interpreting his advance as a threat, Rose immediately poised herself to leap protectively in front of Rey.

“Ben!” Rey commanded sharply, and his eyes snapped back to hers, abruptly breaking the suffocating stranglehold of his anxiety attack. She looked both furious and hurt, and her tone was indignant: _I’m NOT going to leave you and I have NOT lied to you!_ The truth of her assertions broke over him with startling clarity and, as he lowered his eyes, a loathsome trickle of shame and remorse burned his cheeks and encumbered his chest with a dead weight.

“I was only going to ask you if you’d consider visiting your mother,” Rey said tersely, but not unkindly. “She’s ill.”

The room fell silent as he processed this information, now battling both the humiliation of his outburst and his reaction to the disturbing news of his mother.

_\- I’m sorry, for being -_

he eventually said through the bond, and raised his eyes to catch the softening of her expression. Her upper torso deflated as she sighed heavily, offering a tight little smile as she understood, and accepted his apology with a nod.

_\- I can’t help these...attacks..._

he transmitted.

_\- I know_

She affirmed her understanding with a gentle squeeze to his lower arm, then slid her hand down to meet his clenched fist. He gently took her hand between his fingers.

He was still holding on as he looked towards Rose, who actually looked considerably bewildered, and said in a contrite voice, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you.”

Rose merely raised her eyebrows and huffed as she walked towards the door, shaking her head in despair. Rey hesitated before turning to join her.

“I’d better go,” she said sadly. _I don’t like leaving you when you’re like this._

He grimaced.  
  
_\- I’m always like this._

  
______

  
**22.00 GST**

Rose was thoroughly lost in thought as she walked alongside Rey towards the meeting room suite. She’d spent the entire journey unsuccessfully batting away the nagging doubts plaguing her about her friend’s questionable relationship with Kylo Ren. The man was totally unstable! And Rey had called him ‘Ben’ - what in Malachor was that about? And she a strong suspicion that the two of them were conducting telepathic conversations.

“We must smell like a tart’s bedchamber,” she finally said, breaking a long, awkward silence.

“I know!” Rey answered too jovially, clearly relieved to be talking again.

“Look what I’ve kept as a souvenir,” Rose said, conspiratorially. She pulled the hideous bottle of Force Sauce out of her pocket.

“Who’s that for?” Rey snickered.

“Finn, of course.”

“Does he smell like a Wookie’s armpit, then?”

“He will do, after he’s put this on,” Rose said. “Soooo, what have you sneaked out for your man, then?” she asked, keeping her voice level as she watched Rey with an appraising eye.

Rey sensibly didn’t attempt to deny what Rose had just implied but instead lowered her eyes, and Rose could almost hear her mind frantically working to think up a suitable response. Rey looked at her again as the indecisive pause hung awkwardly between them, and said, in the quietest voice, “The only thing I want to steal for him is his freedom.”

Rose glanced at her friend, surprised to feel a sudden lurch of sympathy in response to this statement, despite her horror at having witnessed the charged moments between the two of them. There was clearly an attraction between them, certainly from Kylo Ren’s side, but Rose wondered if it went any deeper than that.

They reached the turbolift and entered, standing side-by-side in the metallic cube as it began its descent and Rose was just about to ask Rey about the nature of her relationship with him when a subtle sniff broke the silence. She glanced sideways at Rey, in sudden alarm.

“Hey,” Rose said softly, placing a gentle hand on her friend’s arm, “are you OK, sweetie?” Rey was hastily wiping tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. Oh, it _did_ go deeper than that.

“I’ll be OK in a minute,” Rey sniffed again, her voice coarse as she struggled to rein in her emotions.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Rose probed gently. “I promise not to judge, although I might pull a few faces.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Rey swallowed thickly. Rose’s brain leafed through all the possibilities as to how Rey and Kylo could have ever been in the same vicinity as each other in order to have developed feelings. Rey had certainly never mentioned him but, then again, she’d have hardly been able to sit in the Resistance canteen and chat casually about him – he was their most dreaded enemy. Perhaps they’d been communicating telepathically across the vast expanse of space, but she didn’t know whether the force could do that. One thing she did know, though, was that if Rey had been doing that, the last Jedi would be in a whole lot of trouble.

The mechanical hum of the turbolift filled the lingering silence, providing an oddly soothing soundtrack to the friends’ respective thoughts as they continued their journey downwards. Rose nearly jumped out of her skin when Rey suddenly uttered, “He’s never going to get out of here alive...”

Rose glanced at Rey’s tear-streaked face and felt another pang of sympathy as she rummaged in her overall pockets, hoping to find a cloth or something she could offer to mop up the tears, but only found a greasy rag from cleaning the power couplings on the Millennium Falcon’s hyperdrive.

“Sorry, it’s a bit grimy, but...” Rose apologised as she offered it to Rey, who took it gratefully and smeared grease over her cheeks as she wiped. “Listen, we’re going to have to have a chat about what’s going on between you two,” Rose eventually said. “In the meantime, none of us know how this is going to end. I don’t even know if I, or Finn, will get out alive. But at the end of the day, we have to try. Maybe things won’t turn out so badly after all.” The words felt like a betrayal as they left her mouth. She knew that neither of them believed it.

Rey nodded and gave her a small smile as she wiped the last of the tears from her face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t apologise for being human,” Rose admonished, wanting so much to comfort her friend in spite of all the alarm bells going off in her head. “Even though you seem to have something going on with _Kylo_ kriffing _Ren_ , of all people. I mean, why not Poe? He’s hot!”

“Yeah, right,” Rey snorted. “ _That’s_ never going to happen.”

“What about Cobain? He’s a genius and he’s gorgeous.”

Rey shook her head. “No, no one else,” she said sadly. After a moment, she seemed eager to focus their attentions onto someone else as she quipped, “Oh! I wanted to tell you something! I think one of the First Order generals has been showing Cobe a lot of, er, interest.” Rose’s eyebrows shot up as Rey continued, “And Ballie’s totally smitten with Lieutenant Mitaka.”

“Maker, you’re all at it!” Rose despaired. “What is this? _Hump-a-baddie_ week or something? We’ll just have to find someone for poor old C’ai...maybe we should send him on a date with Hux then, eh?”

Rey managed a smile at that.

________

  
**22.00 GST**

Only Jetta remained with Finn, and she now stood fearlessly in the corner of the huge mess hall, beaming at the troops as she faced them in their hundreds. With her youthful looks, skintight black jumpsuit and androgynous charm that attracted both men and women, Finn was pretty sure that, behind those masks, most of the soldiers’ eyes would be trained on her.

He now tensely paced the floor in front of the surviving stormtroopers, many of whom were injured and all, without exception, looked in poor condition. He observed the array of soldiers stretching out before him, with their irregular assortment of scuffed white plates and ripped black body understockings, thinking they resembled an enormous mouth, grinning sarcastically at him. Few soldiers were able to fully stand to attention, heavily burdened as they were by injury, grief and fatigue.

“OK,” Finn started nervously, casting a glance up at the annoying speaker droid that was now following him everywhere. “Er, at ease. Please remove your helmets, if it makes you more comfortable.” His eyes scanned the rows of soldiers before him and noted that many had already taken off their protective headgear. He exchanged a look with MU-3301, whose pursed lips may have been a smile, Finn wasn’t sure.

Taking a shaky breath, he hesitantly voiced the speech he’d hastily scratched together in his head ten minutes ago. “Some of you may recognise me, and know me as FN-2187. I was stolen from my family at birth, like many of you. I trained under Cardinal and then Phasma, like you. I’ve been controlled, punished and ordered to kill by the First Order, like you. I hated being told when to eat, when to sleep, when to shit, when to kill - while our punishments increased and our rewards dwindled. I left. I’m no longer FN-2187. My friends know me as Finn.”

He drew in a lungful of air and started to walk among the rows of soldiers, the speaker droid dutifully shadowing him. “As I understand it, General Hux and Captain Phasma incited the riot that happened earlier today. They pushed you guys beyond the limit of what you can reasonably be expected to handle.” He rose his voice in affirmation. “You were _right_ to stage a revolt!” Heads nodded. “You were _right_ to take matters into your own hands!” He heard a few encouraging echoes of “yeah!” as he continued walking among the rows, occasionally stopping to pat someone he recognised on the shoulder, but all troopers moved respectfully aside to enable him to pass among them easily.

“But the chaos stops _now_ ,” he continued. “Many of your brothers and sisters perished in the uprising and, whatever their deal, whether you were on friendly terms with them or not, they suffered the same shit as you - the same _orders_ , the same _abuse_. The same _neglect_ from the First Order.” By now Finn was almost shouting. “The killing stops _now_!” he roared.

“You’ve been conditioned to believe that what they’re is doing is good - brutally controlling systems and stealing their resources, taking the best of everything for themselves. Bashing small communities into submission. Stealing the children of those who they want to control. Stopping at _nothing_ to get what they want.” He emerged from the ranks and faced them again, confident as he met their stares.

“I know what I think, but I can’t tell you what to think. Whatever your view of the old Republic or the Resistance, the First Order or the old Empire, ask yourself this – are you even _allowed_ to have an opinion? Do you have a say about what they do, about what they tell you to do? Do you have a choice to leave if you wish?” The room was completely silent.

He quietened his voice. “The answer is no. It’s always no. You have no rights except to eat, sleep, shit, kill. You get no vacation, you’re disposed of when you get sick... man, you ain’t even allowed to reproduce without medical clearance first – who do they think they are?” His gaze focused on various troopers as he made each statement, hammering home each point.

“I’m glad I left. I’m not asking you to join me - I’m asking you to make a choice. Stay with the First Order, under a different leadership with a different outlook - help us _reform_ the stormtrooper programme to make your lives better. Leave, and we’ll do our best to rehabilitate you into civilian life so that you can choose your own path and find your own happiness.”

He paused, to gauge the reaction. In times past their reaction would certainly have been hostile; now, all he saw was indecision. He had to do better than this.

“Look, I know this is a big deal. Nothing’s set in permacrete yet - our general is communicating with your officers right now to come to an agreement. General Hux is in a prison cell and -”

A huge cheer rose up from the ranks, deafening him for a moment. He glanced at Jetta, who grinned broadly.

He laughed and cheered with them. “Good news, right? He’ll be put on trial, along with Kylo Ren,” he said. “Captain Phasma – well, we haven’t found her yet, but we’re working on it. And I get first dibs on busting her ass!” he shouted to louder cheers, and he had to raise his hands to silence them.

His voice quietened again. “I can’t tell you what’s going to happen because I really don’t know yet,” he said seriously. “But as long we can work together on this, you should get the respect and the choices you deserve.” Raising his voice in a plea, he called, “We need your generals to listen to us. Is anyone willing to help us, er, _persuade_ them?”

An encouraging roar filled the room and Finn almost felt drained with overwhelming relief.

“Now to important matters,” he continued, his voice growing hoarse. “We’ve coaxed the kitchen staff out of hiding again and we should have some food ready to go in a minute – please give them your thanks, they’ve done an amazing job in very difficult circumstances!” Grateful cheers filled the hall.

“You’ll all be contacted individually for interview, starting tomorrow. In the meantime, if anyone wants to help with the clean-up operation, find me after your meal. OK, enjoy your food, guys.”

Clearing his throat, Finn watched the soldiers crowd around the tables as a procession of catering staff delivered plates of steaming hot food into the room. He rubbed the back of his neck to ease the tension that had been building all day, and made his way over to Jetta, receiving occasional pats on the back by a passing trooper.

The speech and his burning nerves had sapped all his energy, but there was no way he was going to get any sleep for hours.

________

**22.00 GST**

Phasma had killed her past.

Not one person in the galaxy knew that she’d been found on a dead planet, having spent her whole life defiantly enduring starvation and brutal hardship. She’d triumphed over every challenge, using her outstanding strength and sharp intellect to plot, fight and murder to survive - tactics she continued to employ within the apparently more civilised environment of the First Order.

Perceptive and autodidactic, she’d quickly learnt to replicate the mannerisms of those she aspired to, and her carefully emulated speech and eloquent choice of wording meant that no one questioned her calibre.

She more than compensated for her lack of education with superior warrior skills, and she drew from this knowledge to train and control stormtroopers in a punishing regime. So, of course, her resentment had grown as everyone credited Hux with “his” renowned training programme, praising him for his astute military vision and superior soldiers. Few acknowledged that it was she who had pushed the rookie soldiers to the very limit of their ability.

This meant she had no companions, but she wasn’t here to make friends. She refrained from joining the communal chatter in the mess hall, to avoid both conversation and the necessity to publicly remove her helmet in order to eat. Her flaxen looks and piercing blue eyes hadn’t been seen for years, purposefully hidden beneath her trademark chrome armour.

Years ago, when Brendol Hux, that drunken lech, had taken her from Parnassos and bombed her home to oblivion, a young Armitage had known of her feral, ignorant origin – he, and he alone, knew exactly who she was and where she’d come from. He knew more about her than any other sentient being in the galaxy.

She now watched his blurred image on the monitor as he sat listlessly in a cell, deep within the bowels of the Finalizer, and a deadly smile spread across her face. There was one thing Hux definitely didn’t know about her…

________

**22.00 GST**

Now alone in Hux’s chambers, Kylo commenced his search.

He’d frequently sensed that Hux was hiding something, but had seen through most of the bastard’s conniving, scheming and duplicity. He’d also seen through the man’s pathological determination to deny his homosexuality as well as the tremendous and pointless effort he employed to hide it. No-one cared. It was no wonder the man was such an uptight arsehole.

This was the first time Kylo had had the opportunity to freely search Hux’s personal quarters. Concentrating on the task at hand, he purposefully ignored the persistent voice nagging him to find his mother, and the one that told him he’d made a fool of himself in front of Rey. Under Snoke’s cruel brand of tutelage, he’d mastered the ability to temporarily block out undesirable thoughts when his life depended on it, but he was only able to manage it for short periods of time these days.

As the minutes ticked by, his enthusiasm for the futile search waned as his scolding conscience amplified its counsel.

It was time to find Leia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is that Phasma up to, eh? And how's Kylo's meeting with Leia going to go? 
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Comments are welcome here, or come and find me on tumblr @colliderofhadron for a chat. I have a Ko-fi account for anyone who wants to buy me a coffee to say a small thank you for my story https://ko-fi.com/N4N1MAR3.
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER: To make up for the lack of stuff happening in this chapter, it really kicks off in the next one. Big time.


	11. Purged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It all kicks off in this chapter...
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you to the wonderful Butterfingers for beta reading my story, and for continually putting up with all my nonsense with grace and wit. Check out 'We Belong', her epic canonverse Reylo fic.

DAY 1 – 22.20 GST

Leia had wearily returned to the Millennium Falcon, instead of following Ballion to the meeting.

Desperately needing a moment of respite before she could even countenance negotiations with the First Order’s generals, she’d unsteadily made her way along the many corridors back to the loading bay, accompanied by Kimgor, her silent escort.

The seemingly simple task of placing one foot in front of the other had grown more arduous with every pained step and, without the distraction of chatter, she was unable to ignore the harrowing image of her son now flashing before her with every blink. Each disturbing reminder of his misery seemed to chip away another piece of her, and she’d just wanted it to stop.

The landing bay had been a knot of congestion when she’d returned. Hovering in the void beyond its gaping mouth drifted an array of spacecraft in all shapes, sizes and colours and, without the usual team of stewards to guide them, landing had become a precarious game of shameless wit and pure luck. Leia had recognised a few of the craft already ensconced within the bay – many of them Resistance vessels, looking tatty and inadequate next to the ostentatious ships of the Grand Jury, whose vast hulls boasted emblazoned crests and highly polished exteriors.

And in the middle of them all stood poor C’ai, flapping his arms frantically in an attempt to guide the ships to an appropriate docking space. Sadly, his energetic waving and leaping had been entirely swallowed by the sheer size and quantity of spacecraft dwarfing him.

Upon seeing the disorder, Leia had hastily dispatched Kimgor to help him but, between C’ai’s Abednedo dialect and Kimgor’s mutism, she realised she’d have to get them some more communicative backup, quickly. She’d rattled off a stream of commands to Ballie via her wristcomm then boarded the Falcon, hindered by a leaden heaviness as she struggled with the incline of the ramp. Tired, so tired.

Once inside, she stumbled towards the tiny cabin she used to share with Han, closed the door and collapsed onto the bed, thoroughly depleted. She was quickly claimed by sleep.

_______

22.20 GST

Phasma had never confided in anyone.

She consistently refused to indulge in any conversation that wasn’t strictly goal-related or heavily weighted in her favour, and the only outlet for her emotions was her diary. She’d learnt to read and write upon joining the First Order years ago and, since then, routinely chronicled the daily events of her life. Whether mundane or exuberant, it was all entered as she furiously tapped every detail onto the cool surface of her datapad: her glories, the wrongdoings of every errant soldier, the comings and goings aboard the ship, her goals, the waning resources, the suicides, the gory details of every victory, every failure…

...Every order Hux ever given her to kill - time, date and reason, if any. Every unguarded comment he’d made about his plans to expand the First Order’s diminishing resources by exterminating entire colonies, every overheard discussion about the possibility of conducting unscrupulous experiments on carefully-selected stormtroopers, in order to breed a superior army.

It had all been diarised, with meticulous accuracy and increasingly eloquent narrative as her literacy skills improved.

Now nested within a cloud of plump cushions on the sofa, Phasma found herself drifting into a trance-like stillness as she methodically assessed her options. If she didn’t plan this carefully, it would mean the end for her. But Hux had to be stopped. For her own sake.

She looked down at her unmasked face as it stared back at her from her datapad’s reflective black surface, wondering how she could transmit its contents to the Resistance without being captured. Striking a bargain with them would be highly unlikely and, in any event, she didn’t want to be beholden to them. She considered hacking into the Finalizer’s mainframe, thus enabling anyone on the ship to access the information, but she’d never been particularly adept with technology.

She’d need someone to do it for her. As she looked up at the band of monitors stretched in front of her, a nascent plan began to form. If she played it right, she’d not only incriminate Hux, but also settle an old score at the same time.

Sitting up straight, her eyes scanned the multiple screens for the tallest stormtrooper she could find.

________

22.25 GST

Leia stirred, confused, initially aware of nothing but panic and distress, but she quickly realised the cause of her disturbance. She sensed him long before she heard his heavy footfalls strike the ramp.

She stilled, listening intently as he paced the metal grids of the Falcon, knowing from the pitch and volume that he was heading towards the cockpit. Her senses heightened, and the intensity of his anguish quickened her already shallow breaths - her son was haemorrhaging pure, unadulterated despair out into the force in violent, messy bursts.

She sensed him looking around the flight cabin, his emotions spiking as his fingertips drifted over the switches and levers of the control console, lingering on the pilot’s yoke as if the ghost of his father still gripped its cold metal crossbars. The force ensured that Leia missed nothing of his crushing loss as he spun the shabby pilot’s chair round to face him, sparking a relentless onslaught of memories: his father casually leaning over its armrest while hastily bellowing an order over his shoulder at Chewie...his father swinging round in the chair, grinning in that roguish way of his...showing his father a new toy, “What ya got there, kid?”... wriggling excitedly on his father’s lap as he navigated the channels of space...one painful memory after another...

Leia felt the exact moment her son’s grief overwhelmed him.

The devastating torrent of his raw emotions crested and Leia shook violently as she felt it, tasting blood as he suddenly bit down on his lip in an attempt at control. But the cascade refused to abate, accelerating until he started to drown in the deluge and was forced to react in the only way he knew how. Automatically snatching the lightsaber from his belt, he seized it in desperation, needing the reassurance offered by its merciless power. Leia flinched as she bolstered herself against the inevitable outpouring of his fury.

But it never came.

Ben had been paralysed by a jolt of momentary panic as he’d registered that _something wasn’t right_ and now stood motionless, looking incredulously at the unfamiliar weapon clasped within his tense hand. It wasn’t _his_ lightsaber. It was Rey’s, the one she’d given him after freeing him, and Leia sensed his breath falter as the realisation hit him.

The sword had been loaned to him as a token of affection and solicitude, of trust and understanding; Rey had offered half of herself to him in exchange for...nothing at all, and the significance of this act hit him with startling clarity. Swallowing with difficulty, he slowly loosened his deadly grip as the impetus for fury evaporated. The agonising reality of his grief and guilt, his love and loss, and the utter, shocking _magnitude_ of his fatal mistake struck him like an evisceration.

Leia found him sitting on the tattered leather banquette in the main hold a few minutes later, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and head in his hands as he gripped at his hair in misery. He made no attempt to move as she shuffled towards him, her shaking hand outstretched as though approaching an unpredictable creature, gingerly brushing his shoulder as she reached him. He leaned into her belly as surge after surge of misery ripped through him.

“I’m sorry,” he stuttered over and over into the fabric of her tunic.

Unable to speak, she simply sshhhh’ed him, or maybe she was just attempting to soothe herself, she didn’t really know. She wrapped both arms around his heaving shoulders, and the action felt both awkward and indescribably familiar at the same time, but she realised that, ultimately, a mother’s need to comfort her broken son was greater than the need to exercise caution, as she held her treasured enemy in her fragile hands.

Leia had no idea how long they remained like that, sniffing, gulping and shuddering through their shared sorrow.

 

______

22.30 GST

\- I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...

The pain had been excruciating and hit Rey with the sudden impact of a blaster bolt, forcing her to stop in her tracks and lean against the corridor wall. Her eyes stung with tears that weren’t her own and she braced herself again and again as repeated waves crashed over her.

“Rey! Rey? Are you OK?” Her body had started to slide down the wall, and Rose dashed over to hold her up. “Help me!” Rose yelled over her shoulder at Kat, who’d initially stilled in horror, but managed to snap herself out of it and run over to wrap her arm around Rey’s waist. Between her and Rose, they managed to stop Rey falling forward.

\- I’m so, so sorry

Rey rubbed her hands over her face, as if the movement could brush away the pain, but she was so shaken by the intensity of his suffering that she was left reeling with nausea. It felt as though he was violently purging his remorse in great, wrenching heaves, dislodging something hideous embedded deep within.

Rey and Rose had just exited the turbolift when they’d bumped into Ballie and Kat, who were heading to the meeting, having come straight from the detention cells. Kat was still dressed in Rey’s recognisable outfit of flowing gauze wraps and cross-crossed arm bindings, and the women had giggled as they’d regarded each other in their unfamiliar clothes. Ballie had had to dash off on yet another errand, and the three women had only just resumed their journey when the force had suddenly assaulted Rey with the full potency of Ben’s despair.

Despite months of clamping down on his anguish, she’d never experienced anything like this from him before. Now sitting on the floor with her back leaning against the wall, she squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to regain control, focusing only on reassuring him.

“Are you talking to him?” Rose’s voice suddenly pierced her concentration, and she opened her eyes to see her friend looking at her with genuine curiosity, as if she’d just worked something out. Then her voice hardened. “Is he hurting you?”

She shook her head, gulping down another wave of nausea as an involuntary sob escaped her throat. She took in a large, unsteady breath as she prepared to speak.

“He’s hurting,” she rasped.

“You can talk to him,” Rose said. Kat had no idea what was going on, looking completely mystified as she leaned over Rey, rubbing her shoulder in what she hoped to be a comforting manner. Rey nodded, leaning her head back against the wall. “Kriff.” Rose’s eyebrows raised at the admission. “You’ve been talking all this time?” Her voice was incredulous, but her question sounded more like a statement.

Rey’s pained eyes looked at her dear friend, fully aware of the gravity of her confession. Scrunching her eyes up in guilt, she nodded again. Rose hissed out a flabbergasted breath.

“You and I are definitely going to have to talk,” she said, but her tone wasn’t hostile. “C’mon, we better get a move on.”

 

________

22.40 GST

The tears eventually abated, and Leia felt her son gently pull away from her. She unwrapped her arms and stepped back, allowing him room to stand, and respectfully avoided looking at him as he made a hasty retreat towards the fresher.

Wiping away the last of her tears on the sleeve of her tunic, she walked over to one of the cabinets in the main hold and extracted a bottle of Corellian rum. Grabbing two tumblers, she brought them over to the dejarik table and shakily poured a glass each, then sat down.

“I need a drink,” she said hoarsely, as Ben returned from the fresher. “Want one?”

Kylo nodded gratefully and sat down opposite her, his face swollen and blemished as he accepted the drink. She guessed she must look just as bad. They silently chinked the glasses and gulped down the fiery liquid.

“They’ll put you on trial,” she said, getting straight to the point, once her throat had recovered from the initial burn of alcohol.

He nodded as he looked down at his empty glass.

“If you cooperate, you might avoid execution, but I can’t guarantee it. It’s out of my hands.”

His eyes flicked up at her. “And what if I escape?”

“Then I won’t be able to stop you,” she said, looking at his red-rimmed eyes, “but you’ll be hunted for the rest of your life.”

He reached over and grabbed the bottle, waving it at her in a silent offer; she shook her head and watched him refill his glass.

“Were you thinking of leaving alone, Ben?” she asked slyly, but without humour. He merely averted his gaze and said nothing. “Do you think she’ll come with you?”

His eyes snapped back to hers, his expression suddenly radiating undisguised annoyance. “She hasn’t said anything,” Leia said quickly, sensing his thoughts, “but she didn’t need to, Ben. I don’t know what happened between you two, but I feel her sadness every time she hears your name. I sense _you_ when I see her.” She watched him carefully as he gnawed at his lower lip, taking his continued silence as his blessing to continue. “Of course, we’d all miss her, but her place isn’t with the Resistance, just as much as yours isn’t with the First Order.”

He swirled the dark drink around in his glass, lost in the liquid’s mesmerising amorphicity for a while, before finally admitting, “I don’t know if she’ll agree to come with me.”

“Ask her!” Leia said, suddenly animated. “Listen, Ben, I haven’t got much time left. I need to know that you’ll be happy, son. It’s all I want.” Leia placed her hand on Kylo’s and he seemed to look at it accusingly for an uncomfortable moment, but made no attempt to rebuff the gesture. “I know I should have been around more, when you were younger,” she added quietly. A silence hung heavy between them as Leia tried to blink back a fresh veil of tears and Ben studiously avoided her eyes, awkwardly glancing between the table, the entrance to the cockpit, the engineering station...

Leia eventually removed her hand and sat back in her chair, quietly regarding his pensive expression. She finally shrugged and said, “The girl loves her food – take her to dinner and ask her!”

________

22.40 GST

The clamour could be heard through the walls of the meeting room – the sound of raised voices and armour clashing with armour, followed by a thud as someone was shoved forcefully against the wall.

Poe immediately jumped to his feet, raising his blaster as he cautiously approached the door. Just as he reached it, the panel slid open and Rose and Kat immediately stormed in, followed closely by Rey. They looked tense, but their expressions were otherwise hard to read and Rose raised a somewhat exasperated eyebrow at him as she passed.

The women were flanked by General Kennedy, one of Hux’s trusted aides, who looked thoroughly flustered and irritated. He also kept warily glancing at Kat, presumably mistaking her for Rey.

A stream of First Order generals and lieutenants trickled in, their faces displaying varying degrees of annoyance as they scattered to their various places around the table. Just as the last seat was taken and Poe thought that was it, a handful of administrative staff lined up along the wall, datapads in hand, trailed by three rather pompous-looking members of the Grand Jury. No one looked particularly enthralled at having been summoned at such a late hour, or by the prospect of lengthy, disharmonious negotiations.

Rey wordlessly joined the administrative team, as she was dressed in a similar uniform to them, while Kat and Rose stood behind Poe. A crowd of stormtroopers then marched in, some purposefully taking their places around Poe, the majority making a point of surrounding Kennedy and his generals. As they all streamed in, Poe took the opportunity to lean back in his chair and whisper to Rose, “What’s going on?”

“They wouldn’t let us in!” Rose hissed. He smirked and nodded at Rey, who was probably responsible for the thumping he heard earlier. He frowned as he took in her expression - she actually looked pale, and her eyes appeared distant and unfocused as she stared ahead.

He turned back just in time to meet General Kennedy’s smug scowl. Kennedy was a stuffy sexagenarian, a haughty relic from the days of the Empire who clearly believed that anyone younger than the age of 50 didn’t deserve to achieve the rank of general. He was particularly fond of looking down his nose at people whilst drawing his brows tightly together in a look of utter disdain – a look he was directing at Poe right now.

Fortunately, a distraction arrived in the form of a team of smartly-uniformed kitchen staff, who were now filtering in and busily placing trays of refreshments on the polished boardroom table. Poe looked longingly towards the nearest tray of pastries and caf, but his eyes were met by those of the grey-suited, stony faced officials sitting opposite, who glared and grimaced at him as if reading his thoughts. For some unfathomable reason, no one seemed willing to help themselves to the refreshments, as if denial of temptation was some kind of unspoken test of strength and discipline.

So no food then. And, it seemed, no time for introductions or niceties.

“General Dameron,” Kennedy snarled before he’d even sat down, pulling his lips into a tight light line as he looked down his enlarged nostrils at Poe. “This impromptu meeting has been called as a direct result of your unexpected presence on this ship.”

Poe remained silent, trying to clamp down on his desire to comment on the fact that he’d been kept waiting for nearly two hours, so the meeting could hardly qualify as ‘impromptu’. Instead, he merely nodded his acknowledgement, wishing that Leia or Finn could join him - they always knew the right things to say in these difficult situations.

“I believe you’ve been apprised of recent events,” Kennedy said stiffly, screwing up his face in distaste as he spoke. “It’s my understanding that you wish to negotiate a deal with us.”

Poe leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. He could feel himself sweating again.

“General Kennedy,” he started, his voice crackling slightly as he tried to mimic Leia’s confident and concise style of address. “Your dictatorship is crumbling, your resources are becoming dangerously depleted and your infrastructure is fragile. The insurrection isn’t just limited to your soldiers. The age of empire is over.”

“What do you propose?” Kennedy smirked patronisingly, as if he was reprimanding a naughty child. “Are you asserting your _power_ over us?” At that, he snorted out a preposterous guffaw, looking around the table at the other First Order generals to ensure they joined in.

“We know how to deal with bullies who assert their power,” Rose shot back instantly, her tone icy. “That little display out there proved it,” she sneered as she nodded towards the door.

“Ahh, fighting talk from a – _boiler room engineer_?” he mocked condescendingly. “I believe this is a meeting strictly for generals and the higher ranking officials. Tell me, what is your rank?”

“She’s here because I asked her to be,” Poe said coldly.

As if on cue, the door hissed open and Chewbacca ducked in. Those who weren’t familiar with the Wookie seemed to blanch, leaning back in their leather chairs as if the extra few inches of distance would prevent a severe maiming.

“What the kriff is that?!” one of the young generals screeched, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head as Chewie nonchalantly strolled over to join Rose and Kat behind Poe.

“Probably their chef,” Kennedy sneered nastily, to a few titters. “We’ll have their cleaners in here next. For goodness sake, this is a formal meeting, not a circus! It’s a wonder the _hoi polloi_ manage to achieve anything.”

The smirk instantly fell from his face as something hit him. Hard. “What the...?!” he growled, blinking and recoiling in shock as he instinctively raised his hand to the reddening point of impact on his forehead.

Poe hadn’t actually witnessed what had happened – he’d just seen the projectile making contact with Kenney’s head, and heard the immediate creaking of armour as blasters were swiftly raised, although no one seemed to know who the culprit was. One of the stormtroopers standing behind Kennedy bent down to pick up the offending object and handed it to the outraged general.

Kennedy scowled when he saw it. “Did someone just throw a _pastry_ at me?” he growled, examining the baked product accusingly.

Chewie let out a series of staccato roars, which Poe recognised as the Wookie’s laughter and, glancing around the boardroom table, Poe noticed quite a few strained expressions, indicating that Chewie may not be the only one who’d found it amusing. But any mirth, hidden or otherwise, was quickly vanquished as the four stormtroopers closest to Poe suddenly stood rigidly, alert and defensive against the twelve surrounding Kennedy, blasters poised in each other’s direction.

Rey smiled sheepishly at him as she caught his eye, and he placed his head into his hands in exasperation.

The meeting was not going well.

________

 

22.50 GST

“LET ME OUT OF THIS SHITHOLE!”

Hux had heard movement outside his cell and now pressed himself against the door to see what was going on. The first thing he noticed was the lack of fur, and he was about to yell again but got the shock of his life as a bald-headed alien appeared on the other side of the cell door, just inches from his face. He suddenly forgot about shouting. Its beady eyes glared at him from the very edges of its head as it looked down at him over its elongated snout and alarmingly pronounced nostrils. Hux grimaced in distaste at the sight of its untidy face, deciding that he most definitely preferred the hairy monster.

Sitting back down on his bed, Hux was feeling increasingly miserable. Since his father’s...death, he’d grown accustomed to the luxury and comfort of the vile man’s old quarters, and had been receiving privileges beyond the level of his rank for a long time. These days, he was certainly not the sort of man to tolerate squalor or depravation.

He felt his rage start to burn with roaring indignation again. How dare they! He hadn’t fought so hard his whole life to end up in a rotten cell like a common criminal.

“LET ME OUT!” he started again. “I DEMAND TO SPEAK TO GENERAL DAMERON!”

________

23.05 GST

Leia finally appeared, looking drained but dignified as she entered the room, and Poe felt a huge wave of relief. Even Kennedy perked up. The stormtroopers had calmed down, but the atmosphere was still uncomfortably tense and Poe felt as though he was sitting on a time bomb.

“Ah, the Princess!” Kennedy said unctuously. “At last, someone befitting the rank of this meeting.”

“There’s no need to kiss my ass, general,” she said curtly as she walked past the chair that Poe had pulled out for her. Instead, she headed straight towards Rey, leaning towards her and putting her hand on her arm, whispering, “You’re wanted outside, sweetie.” She gave the girl a quick pat on the shoulder before turning her attention back to the meeting.

“Language, young lady!” Kennedy smarmed at Leia with an oily laugh.

“You work with Hux - you’re used to it,” Leia snapped, easing herself into the chair next to Poe as Rey skipped out of the room as quickly as she could. Everyone was silent, their eyes following Leia’s movements as she reached over and pulled the tray of refreshments towards her, appraising it unfavourably. “Got anything stronger?”

That threw them. Glancing from one to the other, awkward shrugs were exchanged until Kennedy nodded at the uniformed staff near the door and they disappeared.

“Apologies for my tardiness. So, what have I missed?” Leia said, rubbing her hands together just as a waiter came in with a large bottle of Maldovean Burtalle and a tray of tumblers, pouring a glass for Leia first.

“What have you missed?” Kennedy snarled as he glared towards Poe. “Outrageous disrespect, that’s what.”

“Great!” Leia said, raising her glass, “I’ll drink to that.” And she downed her drink in one.

“I think I’d like some of that too, please,” one of the First Order lieutenants said meekly, catching Leia’s eye.

A light murmuring ensued as the waiters weaved their way through the seated and standing attendees as they filled glasses with the honey-coloured liquor, purposefully avoiding the stormtroopers before Poe objected, insisting that they ought to be included. The soldiers removed their helmets and exchanged uncomfortable glances before hesitantly accepting, unused to such attention. Kennedy looked as though he was about to explode at such a casual disregard for procedure and rank.

As more drinks were poured and pastries were devoured, Poe took the opportunity to lean towards Leia and ask if she was OK – she was known for her occasionally quirky behaviour, but she really did seem out of sorts. “I’ve just seen my son!” she croaked, her eyes filling with a light sheen of tears. Poe knew who her son was, and couldn’t tell whether her tears were those of happiness or complete misery - he knew what his own reaction would be, but he merely nodded and patted Leia on the shoulder in an ambiguous gesture.

By the time everyone’s glasses had been filled, the entire bottle was empty, the pastry trays were bare and the kitchen staff were sent away for more.

Poe raised his glass.

“How about we drink to a new start?” he said.

________

23.05 GST

The first one went down with barely a tussle, the second one was more of a challenge, but Phasma managed it relatively easily.

She left the bodies in the corner of the executive suite and stripped them of their armour, climbing into the one that fit the best. She quickly checked the monitors then left the room.

She had three tasks: (1) kill FN-2187 (2) get her datapad to the Resistance ships in the landing bay and (3) escape.

With her imposing height, stealth was out of the question. She purposefully marched the corridors in plain sight, exhibiting the well-ingrained stormtrooper behaviour that she’d been personally responsible for instilling so brutally.

She reached level 7 and headed straight towards the mess hall without delay. She realised that there was no way she’d get him on his own – he’d constantly been in the presence of others for hours. Soldiers in tattered armour swarmed the place, most of them with their helmets off, mingling with the scruffily dressed members of the Resistance as if this was the normal state of affairs. Phasma smirked at the certainty that Hux would have an apopletic fit if he were here to witness it.

FN-2187 was seated at a desk, surrounded by a group of soldiers as he busily entered details into a datapad. Nobody looked up as she approached, as they had no way of knowing who she really was. The plan was simple: approach him, shoot, then run. She shouldered her way through the crowd to get closer, seeking a clear shot as she reached the table. Some of the soldiers jerked their heads round to glance at her as she pushed past, but she ignored them. FN-2187 was frowning in concentration as he looked down at the screen. “So, your family came from Taris?” he was saying, glancing up at one of the soldiers.

She raised her blaster, but in the nanosecond it took for her to focus her aim, she was knocked sideways with a vigour that forced the air from her lungs as she hit the ground.

“What the fuck are you doing?” a woman’s voice shrieked, the sound of her alarmed voice attracting everyone’s attention.

Phasma looked up to see a female soldier, helmet removed, glowering hatefully at her. FN-2187 was standing up now, looking down at her with disappointment. Not wasting any time, she leapt up and turned to run, but was grabbed by at least two stormtroopers, and was viciously pulled back by her arms, ripping an amour plate from her black body stocking. She continued to push towards the exit with all her might whilst still in their relentless grip, nearly pulling her arms out of their sockets as she fought to escape.

“Hey! I said, what are you doing?” the voice came again, this time more threatening. Phasma gave the impression of coming to a halt, of surrender, but then suddenly charged, the element of surprise giving her the split-second reprieve she needed to pull away from her captors. She raised her weapon and pushed past the obstructive soldiers with enough power to knock them off balance.

Looking over her shoulder and aiming her blaster behind her as she ran, she pulled the trigger just as somebody tackled her. She was sent crashing to the floor again, but not before she managed to release a shot towards her target.

It hit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! That was a tough one to write, mainly because I struggled to control my desire to write a proper, full-on food fight in the meeting room. That'd be great, wouldn't it! Who would win? (probably the FO because they've got more pies) Anyway, are there even winners in culinary warfare? Does the side that has the poshest food win, or is it sheer volume, or the amount of mess made by one particular side? I need to do some research on this.
> 
> I'll stop being silly now. I shouldn't muck about because poor Finn's been shot. Quite a lot happened in this chapter - the next one is only a tiny bit calmer but there'll be quite a lot of Hux (so there'll be a fair bit of swearing). 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please leave a comment or find me on Tumblr if you liked it or want to talk about food fights!


	12. Embraced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we get a kiss in this one...

**Day 1 - 23.06 GST**

 

Kylo’s eyes followed his mother’s uneven steps as she slowly disappeared into the meeting room. The door hissed closed behind her, and he was alone again.

 

Raw and drained, he drew on the force for strength, focusing his ragged attention on composing his question to Rey. He flinched as he recalled his disastrous proposal six months ago and his stomach churned at the possibility of a second rejection - he wouldn’t get another chance at this.

 

He ran an impatient hand through his hair just the door shot open again, and he instinctively retreated into the shadows, but stopped as he saw Rey bounding out. She visibly brightened as she met his apprehensive gaze across the corridor, and the nervousness afflicting him only moments ago instantly dissipated in an irrepressible rush of affection.

 

Surprised at how easily it came to him, he found himself straightening his stance and opening his arms to her as she hurried towards him and, within a few short steps, they were wrapped in an embrace. In one swift movement, she’d nestled comfortably against him, sliding her arms beneath his cape and across his back, pressing her cheek to his shoulder as she pulled him closer. He instinctively responded, tightening his grip as his palms spanned around her, marvelling at how solid she felt in his arms, how soft. How real.

 

Just when Kylo thought he’d exhausted all emotion after his tumultuous day, he now experienced more as he held the woman who’d been haunting him for so long. He’d initially sought solace after his earlier anguish, but now, as his chin nuzzled her cheekbone, he felt a powerful longing that both enthralled and daunted him. A small part of his consciousness felt a detached intrigue at the strength of his reaction to their closeness but, as he breathed in great lungfuls of her, he was neither capable or nor interested in stopping it.

 

Primal instinct battled with reason as he hunted her scent through the starchy fabric of her uniform, and responded to the movement of her chest as it expanded and contracted against him. Expecting rebuke at any moment, his hands warily explored the slenderness of her waist, sliding easily around her with greedy, splayed fingers, but she only shifted closer, surprising him with a brush of her legs as she did so. Her warm breath was now tickling the exposed skin of his neck, and he trembled at the sensation.

 

His hand scaled her back and rooted its fingers in her hair, knocking the stupid First Order hat to the ground, and she pulled back slightly, looking up at him with heavy eyelids and parted lips. Intoxicated, terrified, desperate, all reason was slayed on the spot as instinct took over, and he found himself leaning forward to gently touch his lips to hers. She didn’t pull away, and he had no idea when or how his eyes had closed or quite what happened after that, except he knew she was kissing back and his knees had gone weak... but then the meeting room door suddenly sprung open again.

 

They jumped apart as though burned. Two people in kitchen uniform emerged from the room, muttering something about getting alcohol for the princess, and Kylo hastily pulled Rey back into the shadows. The staff merely continued their begrudging march towards the kitchen, unaware of that the two most powerful enemies in the galaxy were watching them from behind a bulkhead.

 

As the footsteps faded, Kylo relaxed slightly and looked down at Rey, who was still flattened tightly against the wall, looking distinctly shell-shocked. They were alone again. She made a big fuss of picking up her hat and putting it back on before turning to face him, and her cheeks rouged as she tried, but failed, to meet his eyes.

 

“I have something of yours,” he said quietly, not quite trusting his voice to work properly, reaching under his cape to disconnect her lightsaber from his belt.

 

She smiled as she took it, and he watched in fascination as she attached it to her half of the weapon.

 

“Are you hungry?” he blurted, suddenly mindful of his mother’s advice.

 

Rey’s hopeful eyes darted up to him as though he was also about to produce a three course meal from the umbrage of his cape, and he snorted in amusement at her wondrous expression, feeling himself melt a little more.

 

“Come on,” he said in an affectionate tone, placing his hand lightly on her back to lead her along the corridor and adjusting her hat with a playful tug. It fell off.

 

________

 

**23.30 GST**

 

Pure adrenaline had facilitated Phasma’s escape.

 

Despite the crippling pain, she’d managed to crawl from the tenacious clutches of the hostile soldiers whilst bombarding them with ionized plasma as she blindly fired her blaster over her shoulder, again and again and again.

 

The enemy’s retaliatory attack only just grazed her left flank as she’d hurled herself around a sharp corner. Frantically searching a hiding place, but finding none, she’d had to resort to raising the cover of a sanitary maintenance shaft, somehow managing to fling herself into it before her pursuers could reach her. She landed in something dark and fluid, but the excruciating rip in her ankle had momentarily distracted her from the evil-looking substance that had lapped at her armour.

 

She'd cried out in pain and gulped through the agony, in the full clutch of nausea as she blinked the cold sweat away from her eyes. Crouched in the tiny tunnel, she'd steadfastly refused to acknowledge her surroundings, grateful at least for the protection of the stolen helmet. The lifeless plastoid headgear continued to work effortlessly, even if her body was not, effectively filtering out the full horrors of the gaseous miasma that almost certainly would have overwhelmed her had she been unmasked.

 

She’d waited for what had felt like hours until the furious clatter of footsteps above had passed, then prised her throbbing body from the mire of human detritus using sheer brute force and determination. She now limped her way unsteadily towards the nearest turbolift, ignoring the squelch of wet filth underfoot as pain mastered her motor functions, but she had no time for such trivial matters. She focused instead on escape.

 

Within seconds, she detected the faint sound of fresh footsteps heading in her direction. Now cursing the helmet and its dramatically reduced field of vision, she looked for a new place to hide but realised she’d just have to swallow her pain and improvise with as much dignity as she was able.

 

The light tread drew closer and the outline of a Resistance member came into view – the dark haired female she’d seen earlier on the monitors. Phasma readied herself to fight, expanding her lungs with a huge intake of air in preparation but, as the enemy neared, she realised the girl’s expression was neither hostile nor combative. In fact, she initially looked concerned, then horrified, as her dark eyes scanned Phasma’s pained gait and vile staining.

 

“Hey, what happened to you?” the girl’s voice sounded surprised. “Didn’t they get the medi-droids to have a look at you?” She rushed forward to help, but hesitated as she encountered the first whiff of Phasma’s foul perfume, which prevented her taking another step closer. “Er...we’d better get you to the mess hall. There are droids in there.”

 

Phasma vehemently shook her head and continued her uneasy passage towards the lift.

 

“No, we’ve got to get you sorted out,” the girl said firmly, gripping an unsoiled stretch of Phasma’s armplate, whilst keeping the rest of her body as far away as possible. “There’s help in the mess -”

 

“Med-bay,” Phasma grunted out in an urgent hiss. The girl still clung to her, and Phasma’s size and the force of her movement pulled the smaller woman along with her for a moment, making the girl’s feet screech along the floor until she relinquished her hold and righted her balance.

 

“Ok, but-”

 

“ _Need to get there,_ ” Phasma growled, leaving no doubt as to her determination.

 

Jetta ceased arguing and shrugged nonchalantly.

 

The girl obviously believed she was leading yet another injured stormtrooper to the med-bay, but Phasma made damn sure she kept her helmet on, just in case.

 

**________**

 

**23.15 GST**

 

Rey and Kylo had just started their walk towards the kitchens when they sensed it. Suddenly halting, Rey gasped a strangled, “Oh no!” as she gripped Kylo’s forearm in shock - she’d actually felt Finn get shot, and the pain burned for a moment or two before slowly subsiding. Kylo quickly took her hand, swivelling them both round in the corridor and purposefully guiding her towards the turbolift.

 

“He’s alive,” Kylo said, by way of reassurance.

 

Rey nodded. “I know, but did you feel it, too?” Her horrified expression had eased into one of slight puzzlement.

 

“Yes,” he said, a note of suspicion in his voice.

 

“Does that mean he’s…sensitive to the force?”

 

“Possibly.”

 

Arriving at level 7, Kylo stopped at the end of the corridor and directed her towards the stormtrooper mess hall. “I can’t be seen,” he said, and she was reluctant to let go of him. “Find me when you’re finished.” She nodded and he squeezed her hand, then watched as she stole through the corridor towards her friend, feeling a rising sense of dread. Was he ever going to get off this ship?

 

________

 

**23.45 GST**

 

_******************************************************************_

_Assessment***FN-2187***Human***Male***24 Standard Years***Non-fatal injury***Repair of severely mutilating injury to the forearm***Cauterised blaster bolt wound***1.Droid to evaluate case based upon the potential for return of function***2.Droid to assess whether mechanical prosthesis is superior to replanting natural tissues***3.Droid must not ignore other injuries while concentrating on mangled extremity***4.Droid must ensure patient is stabilized before repairs can be performed***_

_Assessment complete********************************************_

 

________

 

**23.45 GST**

 

The med-bay was alive with activity.

 

This was the fifth time Jetta had sat within its sanitised walls in the last couple of hours, so she knew to stand back while the droids scanned and assessed the new patient, who seemed anxious to get out of there as quickly as possible. The soldier had clearly been shot with a blaster – Jetta had seen plenty of similar injuries today and heard all kinds of horrific stories, but she couldn’t even begin to guess how this one’s armour had got into such a state. She thought it probably best she didn’t know.

 

As soon as the droid had finished its scanning, her patient was gurneyed to an isolated room, where she was turbo-washed with water and disinfectant before being returned. A droid then tried to administer a sedative, but the soldier struggled and bucked so violently, reinforcements had to be called in to restrain her.

 

Jetta eventually stepped over and gripped her hand - she’d seen needle phobia before but this was a particularly bad case. “Hey,” she said, “it’s OK. I’ll, you know, stay with you if you want?”

 

The giant stormtrooper lessened her struggle for a moment, then turned to face her.

 

“It’ll all be over in a second and you won’t feel the pain any more,” Jetta continued in as soothing a voice as she was able, aware that she was pretty lousy when it came to offering the sort of comforting encouragement other women seemed to manage so effortlessly,  but the patient seemed to calm anyway. The droid resumed its task, the sedative was released into the woman’s bloodstream, and Jetta watched the soldier visibly descend into artificial stupor.

 

Still holding the soldier’s now languid hand, she observed the droid efficiently tending to the blaster wound then removing the woman’s footwear to reset her broken ankle, liberally applying bacta afterwards. The whole procedure took just minutes, and Jetta remained with her as she waited for the woman to stir back to full awareness.

 

There were at least thirty other troopers in the main ward and the procedure theatre was busy, judging by all the droids and medical staff in operating scrubs rushing in and out its doors. A constant soundtrack of beeping, shuffling and a general murmuring filled the air, punctuated by the occasional yell or groan of pain. The bacta tanks swirled and bubbled behind a set of double doors at the end of the med bay, strobing Jetta with bright white-blue light every time a harried droid or nurse opened them, complaining in hushed tones about how they weren’t going to get any sleep that night.

 

A modulated groan brought her attention back to the woman laying next to her.

 

“Welcome back,” Jetta said. She sat quietly for a while as the soldier readjusted, thinking that she must be uncomfortable in her rigid armour and wondering what she looked like underneath it. “Do you want me to remove your helmet?” She asked eventually.

 

The soldier shook her head.

 

“So, what’s your name then?” she asked, in an awkward attempt to take the woman’s mind off the pain.

 

“SC-1797,” came the modulated response after a beat of silence.

 

“Well, hello, SC-1797. I’m Jetta.” The soldier turned her head towards her and seemed to be observing her for a few moments, although it was hard to tell with that ridiculous mask. “Er, how are you feeling?”

 

When no reply was forthcoming, Jetta said, “Listen, I’d better get back.”

 

She started to rise from the stool she’d been uncomfortably perching on, but a strong armoured hand suddenly whipped out and gripped her forearm.

 

“No!” the woman hissed.

 

Jetta stilled in surprise, and looked down at the hand encircling her arm.

 

“I have something the Resistance need,” SC-1797 said.

 

“OK....go on,” Jetta said warily.

 

“Not here,” the soldier said, looking around. “Help me, and I’ll show you.”

 

**________**

 

**23.55 GST**

 

 

_******************************************************************_

_Activate repairs command***FN-2187***1.Vascular vessels to be reconstructed around prosthesis to recreate patient’s original human anatomy***2.Droid to connect proximal motor units to prosthesis***3.Droid to assess active motion of extremity after repair***4.Droid to apply bacta every 4 hours for the first 48 hours (GST)***5.Active range of motion exercises are to commence 72 hours (GST) after repair********_

_Commence procedure************************************************_

 

________

 

**23.55 - GST**

 

The meeting had been abandoned for the night.

 

Nobody had been in the mood for it and most were showing signs of fatigue, having worked a long and turbulent day. But no one had looked quite as affected as old Kennedy, who’d pretty much lost control of the generals and stormtroopers, as well as the overall direction of the meeting.

 

Leia’s presence, combined with the arrival of the exotic alcohol, had actually lifted the mood for a while, during which both sides had managed to communicate without hostility. Kennedy had merely sat in silent disapproval, huffing and puffing as the other generals’ initial reticence gradually eased into genial discourse, lost without Hux’s biting command.

 

Many of the young faces peering across the table at Poe seemed to have genuinely appreciated the importance of a “new start”, even if they clearly had no idea what that could be defined as or how it could be achieved. Encouraged by their youthful enthusiasm, he’d coaxed them into making informal introductions, and his cordial questioning had prompted awkward but polite chatter as glasses were topped up again.

 

Throughout the meeting, he’d learned more about the First Order’s indoctrination and brainwashing than he’d ever gleaned in all his years as an active Resistance fighter. Even Finn had never fully articulated the true level of propaganda he’d been forced to swallow – the intelligence he’d passed on always focused on technical and military details.

 

As introductions drew to a close, an impossibly young man bearing an explosion of acne had announced himself as Lieutenant Len Jendrix and bitterly stated, “I voluntarily joined the First Order, after the Resistance attacked my home on Muon and killed my parents.”

 

Poe had glanced at Leia in disbelief, who’d shaken her head sadly as she made eye contact with the young man. “The Resistance have _never_ attacked Muon _,”_ she’d quickly responded, firmly but warmly, her sympathetic eyes meeting blank stares from those around the table.

 

She turned and frowned at Kennedy, who'd merely scowled. “Let’s see what lies the _Resistance_ are going to try to feed us now,” he grumbled.

 

Leia had ignored him, returning her unflinching gaze to the young Lieutenant.

 

“I don’t know what lies you’ve been told about the Resistance, but the _First Order_ launched an attack on Muon’s capital to establish its dominance, wanting control of its shipyards in order to build a fleet,” she began. “Their attack succeeded, and they killed thousands of civilians in the process.” She paused a moment, allowing the information to sink in, and Poe warily regarded the mixture of expressions clouding the young faces in the room - surprise, mostly, but also disbelief. Kennedy merely remained ominously silent.

 

“That happened nearly five years ago,” Leia had continued sadly, looking down at her glass before returning her attention to the Lieutenant. “The kingdom of Muon _never_ forgave the First Order _or_ the New Republic, who’d refused to help. After that, on every state visit by the Republic’s senators, Muon draped its capital’s monoliths in the black shrouds of mourning, in a silent protest at their inaction. Until billions were killed when Hosnian Prime was destroyed, of course,” she added with a harsh glare at Kennedy.

 

“This is preposterous!” he blustered.

 

“What is?” Leia shot back immediately. “The fact that it actually _happened_ , or the fact that you’ve been feeding your personnel a constant stream of lies? Lieutenant Jendrix,” Leia had said, her eyes earnest and voice pleading, “the attack was such an atrocity that the New Republic’s Senate was approached by Muon’s king himself, calling for the immediate execution of those responsible. But at the time the Republic’s stance was to deny the existence of the First Order, although they said they’d look into it.” She'd sighed heavily, shaking her head in frustration. “Bureaucracy, lackadaisical politicians and simple _bad luck_ prevented anything happening, and Muon’s government became so angry and disenchanted by the Republic’s lack of action that they demanded the Senate ban the word ‘honour’ from being used within its walls.”

 

A troubled silence had hung heavily in the room for an uncomfortably long time, and the solemn expressions of those in the room seemed to reflect Poe’s sombre mood as he weighed the gravity of Leia’s words.

 

“I assure you that no such thing happened,” Kennedy had mumbled eventually, without vigour.

 

“Just keep telling yourself that, General,” Leia replied wearily, her expression stern but not hostile, “but that’s a conversation for another day.” She’d turned back to look at the young man, whose eyes were still looking steadily at her, forehead creased in a large frown. “Lieutenant Jendrix, I’m sorry to hear what happened to you and your parents. It reinforces the importance that this war is brought to an end as peacefully as possible.” Poe observed the ripple of grave nods as her statement settled over the room.

 

After a thoughtful silence, Leia said, “Now that I’ve met you all, I must ask you to excuse me. It’s late and I’m old.”

 

With that, she’d arisen shakily from her chair and nodded at Kennedy, before looking round at each faces staring at her. Poe didn’t miss the fledgling respect ghosting their slightly dumb-struck gazes. “It was nice to meet you all,” she said sincerely. “I look forward to seeing you all again tomorrow. Goodnight.”

 

With that, she’d left the meeting, leaning on a concerned Chewbacca’s arm.

 

Everyone had turned to look expectantly at Poe at that point, and he hadn’t been ready for the attention, partly because he was still reeling slightly from Leia’s story. “Erm, yeah,” he’d bluffed. “I guess, that’s...it then?” He’d looked at General Kennedy, who was snorting down his nose again, lips pursed tightly.

 

“Meeting adjourned,” Kennedy said. “We’ll reconvene tomorrow, at nine hundred hours Galactic Standard Time.”

 

Poe nodded. “Yes, thanks for your suggestion. Nine hundred hours it is.”

 

Chairs now scraped noisily across the floor as everybody stood and prepared to exit the room. Just as the first of the administrative staff had reached the door to leave, Ballie came charging into the room and nearly sent them flying, looking thoroughly distraught and wasting no time before announcing: “Finn’s been shot!”

 

________

 

**Day 2 – 00.10 GST**

 

Rose, Poe, Kat, Cortay and two other stormtroopers followed Ballie to level 7, in total silence. Rose was busy breathing through her intense anxiety, swallowing back tears as she focused on not freaking out. She knew this would happen! She just knew it!

 

The lift took an interminable amount of time to reach its destination, but eventually came to a halt and spat them out in yet another corridor. They all marched to the med-bay, but weren’t allowed in when they reached it. Stormtroopers streamed in and out of the room, then the group had to move away from the door to enable a much-needed delivery of supplies and, as an exhausted nurse came over to shoo them away, they caught an illicit glimpse of rows and rows of occupied beds, orbited by the droids and medical staff busily attending them.

 

“I have to see Finn!” Rose screeched, trying unsuccessfully to keep the hysteria from her voice as she forced her way into the room. A figure approached, and Rose could just about discern the familiar face through her tears.

 

“Rose!” Rey cried, flinging her arms around her friend. “He’s OK, he’s OK!” she reassured. “Come through – you can see him.”

 

Rose’s heart was in her throat as she approached the curtained cubicle in trepidation, not knowing what terrifying vision would greet her eyes as Rey pulled back the plastic drape to let her in.

 

________

 

**00.15 GST**

 

Finn wasn’t able to remember much, other than pain crippling his arm the moment the ionised plasma hit. He recalled stumbling backwards and his fall being prevented by surrounding stormtroopers, who’d sat him down gently. Fortunately, there were still medi-droids in the mess hall, who’d offered primary care on the spot.

 

The blaster had punched a hole right through his right forearm, hitting him midway between his wrist and his elbow. He vaguely remembered soldiers guiding him to the med bay, and white dots popping in front of his streaming eyes as he’d panted his way through the pain. Then, nothing.

 

When he came round again, the first thing that pierced his consciousness was something that made his eyes shoot open: he knew that Phasma had fired the shot.

 

The second thing was the considerably more pleasant realisation that Rose seemed to be throwing herself at him.

 

________

 

**00.45 GST**

 

Poe was exhausted. After speaking with Finn, and trying desperately hard not to stare at his scar in a mixture of horror and fascination, he’d been contacted by Ballie via his wristcomm. Apparently Hux was had been yelling for over an hour, demanding to see him.

 

Despite the late time and his leaden fatigue, he knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until he’d discharged this final duty. Cortay and another stormtrooper ushered him to the Detention Suite for one last meeting of the day. General to general.

 

Poe had never met Hux before, although he’d seen more than enough holos of him and had spoken to him a few times, usually with the sole intention of winding the man up. He braced himself for an assault of profane condemnation as he entered the suite.

 

________

 

**00.46 GST**

 

Hux heard the talking outside his cell and quickly rushed to the door to see what was going on, pressing his face carefully to the tiny gap between the wall and one of the bars. He could see the bald alien moving his entire body in a jerky but animated manner as he spoke to the person – a man – but Hux couldn’t see who, from this angle.

 

Suspecting that he may be about to have a visitor, he ran back over to his bed and positioned himself on it in the most defiantly nonchalant way possible. He leaned casually back against the spindly headboard with one arm behind the back of his head, one long thin leg stretched out in front of him and the other bent at what he considered to be a rebellious angle. It was wasn’t particularly comfortable, but he didn’t care – he wasn’t going to let anyone see just how shit he felt.

 

Sure enough, within minutes the door opened and the man walked in. Hux could tell from his silhouette that he wasn’t as tall as him, but of reasonably muscular build. He couldn’t see his face, but the man’s demeanour wasn’t aggressive – if anything, he seemed relaxed. Peaceful. In stark contrast, two rigid stormtroopers stood behind him in the doorway with their blasters trained at Hux's head.

 

“Hugs!” the man said, and Hux could hear the smile in his voice as he said it. _Poe Dameron_. Hux sat up a bit straighter and glared challengingly in his direction.

 

“General Dameron,” he said coldly, his voice hoarse from the day’s excess of shouting.

 

“May I come in?”

 

“Do I have any choice?” Hux sneered.

 

“I guess not,” Poe said amicably. He turned and nodded at the stormtroopers and they closed the door, locking the two of them in together.

 

Poe stepped closer and, in the weak light, Hux was able to see his face more clearly. He narrowed his eyes as he looked up at the poster boy of the Resistance, who was standing right in front of him looking every bit as wholesome and healthy and annoyingly fucking handsome as the propaganda would have everybody believe. Olive skinned, dark wavy hair, plush lips pressed together in contemplation as dark eyes looked down at him thoughtfully.

 

The man slowly extended his hand towards Hux’s face and, in the split second it took for his brain to wonder what the kriff Poe was doing, Hux’s traitorous body had flinched in anticipation of – what? He didn’t know. He’d backed as far as he could against the bed as Poe’s hand lightly touched his face, cupping his chin with his palm and running his thumb gently over the welts on Hux’s cheek, causing a slight rasping sound as it ran against the grain of the rampant stubble foresting Hux’s jaw. The heat of his visitor’s hand seemed to pour through his fingertips, creating a whole storm of unwelcome sensations to brew inside Hux, who cursed himself for his weakness yet again. He hated not being able to control it. As Poe gently coaxed his face to one side in order to see his wounds in a better light, it was all Hux could do to maintain his hateful glare.

 

“How did you get this?” Poe asked, flinching slightly at the sight of the wounds. Hux refused to answer, not trusting his voice. “You been given some bacta?”

 

Hux glared at him for a few moments, then nodded, removing his gaze and fidgeting slightly to get more comfortable on the bed. “You been fed?” Hux nodded again.

 

Damn that man’s soft voice. He’d been preparing for a derogatory exchange, not compassion. He felt his rage start to boil again - how _dare_ that man come into his cell and stand there being all handsome and nice to him – no wonder the Resistance were such a bloody shambles. No one got _anywhere_ by being fucking _nice_! How the hell had _he_ made the rank of general anyway? At least Leia Organa had some balls, and could probably out-swear just about anyone on this whole pestilential ship. Except him of course.

 

“Come here to gloat, have you?” he snarled, jerking his head away from the touch of Poe’s hand.

 

“No,” Poe said, honestly, raising his eyebrows as he lowered his arm. “I came because I was informed you’d been demanding to see me.”

 

“Well, thank you very much for coming!” Hux snapped sarcastically. “I shall sleep so much fucking better now.”

 

Poe looked at him with disappointment. _F_ _uck him_ , Hux thought.

 

The Resistance poster boy walked to the door and banged on it - it was opened immediately – and turned to face Hux before leaving. “Maybe it’s best if we resume this conversation tomorrow,” he said wearily.

 

Hux defiantly watched him leave the cell but, just as the door was just about to close, he suddenly panicked, sitting upright on the bed, and barking, “Get me out of here!”

 

“No can do,” Poe replied.

 

“I can’t stay in here. It’s absolutely kriffing _fetid!_ I’m a _general_ , for fuck’s sake.”

 

Poe stilled in the doorway and sighed heavily. Hux curiously drank in the look of him one last time. “Listen, man, you’re just going to have to put up with it,” Poe said. “There’s a strong chance that you’ll be put on trial tomorrow, so it may only be for one night.”

 

Hux felt his stomach drop. “And then what?” he lashed out in alarm, swinging his legs off the bed and charging towards the door, but the stormtroopers slammed it shut before he reached it. “You’ll have me fucking shot?” he yelled through the bars.

 

“Good night, Hugs,” Poe said sadly, from the other side of the door, and he started to walk away. Hux bit back the infuriatingly ill-timed sting of tears. Damn the man. Damn the shitting galaxy.

 

He breathed in a shaky breath. “Who’ll do it?” he bellowed hoarsely at Poe’s retreating back. “Will _you_ be the one to pull the trigger? Or will it be one of your freaky little alien friends?” He paused for a moment before adding, with a chill, “Or Kylo  Ren...? Phasma?”

 

**00.50 GST**

 

Jetta stood outside the turbolift doors, waiting for the elevator to draw her in and deliver her to level 4, thoughtfully turning the injured stormtrooper’s datapad over in her shaking hands.

 

The soldier had discharged herself early and led Jetta to some kind of cleaning supplies room near the medbay, whereupon she’d removed her helmet and...Jetta had shorted out for a while after that.

 

She’d always considered herself to be tough, street-smart and not easily influenced, having come from a particularly rough part of Lothal. But she was hopelessly floored the moment her eyes were filled with all that blonde hair, creamy skin and those huge blue eyes.

 

The soldier was entrancingly beautiful, and as she’d fixed her determined gaze upon her, Jetta had been utterly bewitched, rooted to the spot and barely able to take in a word of what was being said. Something about getting the datapad to the Resistance? Incriminating Hux? Escaping? The tiny bit of her brain that had still been able to function realised that, whatever it was, it must have been vitally important, but the rest of her head was lost in perfect fantasy.

 

Once Jetta had come to her senses slightly, she’d tried to persuade her to stay until Finn’s stormtrooper rehabilitation programme was underway, but the lady hadn’t been prepared to wait. Gazing into the infinite depths of those pleading blue eyes and drowning in the promises dripping from those rosebud lips, Jetta knew she’d do absolutely anything for her.

 

She now stepped into the turbolift to deliver the datapad to R2D2 on the Falcon, almost too dazed to process the conflicting excitement and guilt flooding her conscience. Did she feel bad about abandoning the Resistance? Should she tell anyone, or just go? Was she doing the right thing? It certainly felt right to her – she saw was nothing wrong in helping a victim who was clearly _desperate_ to escape Hux and Phasma’s brutal regime.

 

There was one thing she’d have to decide pretty sharpish, though – a name. There was no way she was going to call her new fiancée SC-1797 for the rest of her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to go one louder than the sequel trilogy by shoving Phasma in the sewage pipe this time - no lame garbage compactors here hee hee!
> 
> Things really start getting steamy in the next chapter, but for whom...? We've got a few things brewing here!
> 
> A big thank you to Butterfingers for beta'ing -without her, there would have been a lot of nonsense in this chapter and Phasma would never have had a thorough disinfecting!


	13. Kindled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm, I'm a bit 'meh' about this chapter - sorry if it's a bit rubbish. Hopefully the next two chapter will be better. Oh cripes, I'm doing an absolutely terrible job of selling this story (facepalms)

 

**Day 2 – 00.15 GST**

 

Kylo felt a gentle nudge through the force, alerting him to Rey’s approach.

 

He’d found a quiet room and meditated whilst she visited FN-2 - _her friend,_ in the med-bay, and had actually spent an admirable amount of time in sensible contemplation, despite his inclination to dwell, repeatedly, on what just happened.

 

With Hux’s murderous regime effectively halted, he could now relinquish his grip on galactic politics. Trusting the governance of neither the Grand Jury nor the Resistance, he accepted that he was no more worthy of the mantle himself. His enthusiasm had been sliced away, piece-by-piece, over the duration of his leadership and, whatever grievous insanity existed aboard the ship or in the skies around them, the kindling of his relationship with Rey had now reduced _everything_ else to petty insignificance.

 

As he watched her draw closer, he resisted the overwhelming urge to snatch her up in his arms, carry her to his Silencer and ravage her somewhere between here and sanctuary. Huffing in frustration, he knew it wasn’t possible - nothing was permitted to leave the Finalizer without full clearance while the siege was taking place. The only way out would be dead or in an escape pod, which would almost certainly be shot down anyway.

 

Rey seemed to be reading his thoughts as her anxious face drew closer. He took in the slight creases spanning her forehead and the concern shadowing her wide, hazel eyes, stepping towards her to gently cup her smooth cheek in his fingers. Her expression softened under his touch and he felt as though he were melting, aware that he must be gawking at her like a lovesick teenager, but was powerless to stop it. Stroking her cheekbone with his thumb, her eyes darkened and silently flickered her intention at him, and she reached up to kiss him.

 

Unburdened by the blind terror he’d experienced earlier, when he’d pounced on her mouth without confidence or sophistication, he was now free to luxuriate in every intoxicating second. He wasted no time responding, meeting her innocent brush of lips with hungry pressure; she responded with surprising ferocity, dragging her mouth over his and offering the slightest caress of her tongue, and suddenly it didn’t feel quite so innocent any more. His body roared into life as he reciprocated, his nose brushing against the softness of her cheek as he deepened the kiss.

 

Time was somehow lost again, and he had no idea how much of it had passed as they pulled apart, breathlessly gazing at each other with dark eyes and racing hearts, her fingers wound in the hem of his tunic, his hands inexorably hovering above her hips.

 

He felt like he’d been hit in the chest and groin with the full force of a plasma canon. If this was what a _kiss_ felt like, what in Malachor would it feel like to….

 

Curiously, over the racket of his dumbstruck inner monologue, he heard himself mutter a ragged, “OK?”

 

She nodded, and their gazes continued to consume each other for a moment, both kissed senseless and unable to rip their eyes away. Cognisance slowly emerged and he remembered that they’d originally had a slightly different agenda.

 

He cleared his throat. “Food?”

 

She nodded groggily in response. Tentative smiles turned into cheeky grins as they walked towards the kitchen, fingers laced together.

 

________

 

**01.15 GST**

 

Jetta was no longer hiding in the shadows of the loading bay.

 

She’d managed to get the datapad to R2D2 without disturbing either Chewbacca or Leia, then silently padded down the Falcon’s ramp and across the concourse towards her Resistance friends, who looked exhausted after hours of having to keep a tight control on the traffic. Apparently, ships were still arriving - it seemed half the galaxy were desperate to witness the downfall of the First Order.

 

Whilst this was a good thing for the Resistance, and the galaxy as a whole, for Jetta it meant that the chances of leaving with her Amazonian beauty weren’t looking good. She’d just learned from her friends that both Phasma and Kylo Ren were still on the loose, so absolutely nothing was allowed to leave the Finalizer.

 

She made her excuses to leave, then strode briskly towards the main ship, intent on meeting her girl to start planning.

 

________

 

**01.15 GST**

 

Hux was absolutely shitting himself.

 

He knew how meticulously he’d covered his murderous tracks, but there’d be no denying his involvement in the Hosnian genocide. Icy fingers jabbed his spine as he realised he’d almost certainly be sentenced to execution within a matter of hours. If only he could get to his room, he might have a chance…

 

He had no idea what had happened to Kylo Ren or Phasma, or whether they were even still on the ship - would they be on trial too? Or maybe they’d sold their souls to the enemy, willingly opening the First Order’s veins for them in wretched supplication.

 

The night stretched ahead like an endless river, beckoning him to drown in its darkened depths as it carried him towards the new day. He’d have plenty of time to contemplate what lay ahead, to count every torturous second and face every facet of his fear until his likely demise and, as the lonely hours trickled by, he knew that his despair would eventually consume him.

 

Having returned to his long-abandoned childhood nightmare, he lay against the cell bed’s inadequate mattress, curled into a foetal position and wept.

 

________

**00.50 GST**

 

Kylo and Rey had raided the kitchen and now waited for the lift.

 

They’d sat on the hard surface of the floor and eaten quietly and self-consciously, occasionally catching each other’s eye and exchanging shy smiles. Eating in front of each other in such unusual circumstances had felt both rushed and incredibly intimate, and Kylo’s stomach had been in knots throughout the whole experience. In the end, he hadn’t consumed as much as he probably needed, and they’d both agreed it was a good idea to return to his quarters.

 

They’d left the kitchen quickly, with a bag of supplies in case they got hungry later, and hurried to the lift. As soon as they stepped in, Kylo pulled her towards him with a slight smile.

 

“Oi!” she protested softly, eyes sparkling as she fell towards him. But she didn’t struggle and, judging by the way her arms tightened around him, she didn’t actually mind at all.

 

“Rey,” he said softly, stroking his thumb over her face again. Her eyes seemed to shine as she looked up at him, Maker, she was so beautiful. And so close. “If we get out of here, will you leave with me?” he asked, voice tense and breathless as he searched her face for a reaction. He felt her stiffen slightly in his arms, so he pushed on with his explanation. “I’d like to start a life with you somewhere, away from all _this.”_ He jerked his head towards the door.

 

“You mean you no longer want to rule the galaxy?” she asked playfully, but he didn’t miss her nervous undertone. She extracted one hand from his waist to smooth the hair from his face as her expression seemed to silently beg him for the right answer.

 

He shook his head. “No. I just want you,” he said, alarmed to hear the desperation bleeding into his voice. “Just you,” he repeated in a whisper.

 

As she drew nearer, he saw the fire sparking in her eyes.

 

“Then yes,” she breathed against his lips, and her eyes fluttered closed as she kissed him. “Yes,” she said, kissing him again. “Yes,” and again, by which point his thoughts had already disappeared into utter helpless abandon. Hands slid wildly across backs, around waists and over shoulders as lips stroked and tongues met, over and over.

 

He wasn’t sure whether it was Rey’s knees that buckled or his, but they fell back against the side of the lift with a thump. Without thinking, Kylo pushed himself hard up against her, and the noise that escaped her lips set him alight. He snatched that stupid fucking hat from her head and blindly flung it aside, and one hand was in her hair again, running through its softness and freeing it from its fastenings, whilst the other inched down towards her wondrous behind, hungrily exploring and devouring her curves.

 

He forced himself to come up for air for a moment, opening his eyes slightly, and the sight of her still-closed eyes and full, moist lips poised for _more_ sent a jolt of heat to his already inflamed groin. Noses still touching, and panting into each other’s mouths, he growled a very strange-sounding, “Is this ok?”

 

She nodded and pulled him back towards her, and he burned as she trailed hungry kisses over his jaw, down to the edge of his tunic. Tightening his hold on her, his hands were frantic to gain access to her skin as they burrowed beneath her uniform, but they were hindered by her belt. He drew her hips towards him, snaking a hand around her thigh to raise her leg up around his waist as he pressed himself against her, desperate to get closer.

 

They didn’t notice the lift draw to a stop, or the doors sliding open. They did, however, notice the cry of shocked outrage behind them.

 

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!”

 

They jumped apart and spun around. Poe was standing in the doorway, looking absolutely _horrified._

 

__________

 

**01.05 GST**

 

Poe was fervid with rage. How _dare_ that monster even touch her in any way, let alone with such lascivious fervour. Seeing that beast’s huge dark frame hulking over her, mauling her with his claws and devouring her like carrion...his first instinct had been to shoot.

 

Except that, through the smoke and confusion of his horror, he’d managed to catch sight of Rey’s guilty expression as the two had leapt apart, and the way she crept back towards to the man who was supposed to be her adversary. Suddenly enlightened, Poe now regarded the pair of them through narrowed eyes, observing their unkempt hair, the swollen lips and dishevelled clothing. There was no way they weren’t both into this, and it most definitely could _not_ be shrugged off as a scuffle between enemies.

 

Poe burned with anger and disgust. He should have them _both_ lined up and shot.

 

“Rey! You’re coming with me, right now!” he shouted at her, unable to control his fury. “That is an order!”

 

“Poe,” Rey pleaded in a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance, further compounding her compliance in the treacherous act.

 

“No!” Poe snapped. “As your general, I’m ordering you. This is _treason_! You’re coming with me!”

 

Kylo’s huge, menacing frame stepped between them and Poe looked up at the man’s thunderous expression. Shit. With his wild sweeps of hair and the embers of passion still burning in his eyes, he looked more dangerous than ever.

 

Poe shivered, but refused to fold. Crying treason may have been a little strong, but he was adamant he wouldn’t yield to the dreaded Kylo Ren. “Don’t threaten me,” he snarled with a confidence he didn’t feel.

 

“Poe, stop it, please,” Rey pleaded with a frown. “I haven’t betrayed anybody. Ben’s been helping us.”

 

“Oh, so it’s ‘ _Ben_ ’ now, is it?” Poe fumed. “And by _‘us_ ’ do you really mean ‘ _you_ ’? How long’s this been going on?”

 

“None of your business,” Kylo said coldly, with his usual lilt of arrogance.

 

Poe gulped, but remained defiant. Painfully aware of just how pitifully he’d fare in a battle against the towering challenger, he tried a different tack and, with a sigh of frustration, said, “Rey, you know what I’m going to have to do. Forming relationships with the enemy is totally prohibited, especially with the Supreme Leader himself!” he added incredulously.

 

“Who says he’s the Supreme Leader!” Rey snapped. Poe opened his mouth with a retort and realised he’d end up looking like a complete hypocrite. After all, his decree would also mean prosecuting Ballion Soo and Cobain Frances for doing exactly the same thing, and without them _and_ the help from their First Order counterparts, the Resistance infiltration could never have happened.

 

“Finn was once the enemy,” Rey continued. “I don’t see you getting all upset about _him_ starting up a relationship with Rose,” she accused.

 

“That’s different. Finn left the First order and helped the Resistance…”

 

“And so has Kylo!” she challenged. “Right now, being in the so-called ‘First Order’ is pure geography – just because people are stationed on this ship, it doesn’t necessarily mean they’re aligned with them.”

 

Poe hissed in displeasure, rolling his eyes as he begrudgingly conceded defeat. As much as he wanted to see the demon burn for his sins, he’d learnt some bitter lessons about overzealous adherence to a cause, and had to admit Rey had a point. Besides, he couldn’t deny the undercurrent that had demanded his attention earlier, when he’d first met Hux in the flesh; the image of the pale, lean spitfire of a man’s defiant glare had burrowed into his mind more than he wanted to admit. However, he knew better than to pursue it, _he_ knew where to draw the line.

 

Pursing his lips in thought, he looked at the pair standing before him, shaking his head in a mixture of disgust, resignation and despair. What the hell was going on? Had the whole world gone mad?

 

Kylo’s murderous scowl was still directed at him, but Rey reached out and placed her hand on the man’s arm, giving him a faint shake of her head. The action seemed to bestow a calm that defused his baleful glare. For the moment.

 

“OK,” Poe said, more to himself than anyone else, rubbing the tension in the back of his neck with his hand. “OK. So, we’ll discuss this with Leia in the morning. It’s late and I’m beat.” He gave Kylo a wide berth as he walked to the lift, muttering, “I’m never going to get _that_ image out of my head.”

 

The doors opened and, as he stepped in, he spotted an abandoned hat on the floor. “Is this yours?” he asked Rey, not really wanting to pick it up as that animal’s hands had probably been all over it.

 

“Leave it there,” Kylo ordered. Rey snorted as she looked up at him and, there it was again – one look from her seemed to relax Kylo’s tense expression a little, causing Poe to wonder just how much influence she actually had over him.

 

“Have you really been helping Rey, er – _us_?” Poe asked him.

 

Kylo looked taken aback and his expression hardened in an instant, but he gave a single, if reluctant, nod.

 

“Er...thanks, man,” said Poe, unable to hide his obvious distaste, but his words were backed with a tone of genuine gratitude.

 

The lift doors closed, but not before he heard Rey giggle, “You really hate that hat!” and he was horrified to catch a split-second view of Kylo nearly actually _smiling_ , before the doors thankfully blocked him from view.

 

________

 

**01.10 GST**

 

Neither Cobain nor Balllie were on duty when General Kennedy was torn from his much-needed sleep.

 

The rude awakening meant that he was not in the best of moods as he hastily dressed, complaining vociferously as Lieutenant Khanna escorted him to the comms desk, where an operative awaited their arrival in front of a screen bearing a frozen image.

 

“This had better be good,” Kennedy mumbled but, as the footage started to play, his terminally grumpy expression lifted like a stage curtain to reveal a filthy grin – he was watching a holo of Kylo Ren and the Jedi girl making out in the lift, and really going for it, by the looks of it. Oh, this was good news! _Really_ good.

 

He rubbed his hands together and smiled nastily. “Call Generals Adeson and Vanian.”

 

“Now?” asked Lieutenant Khanna.

 

" _Now!"_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope that wasn't too bad. The final chapters will make up for it - they'll be action-packed, with shagging, execution/murder/death (which one, and who?), explosions, aliens, escape (but whose?), erm...food. Yes, definitely food! Will that be enough to entice you to read the next installment, pretty please? 
> 
> Anyway, if I haven't scared you all off, please leave a comment if you sort of didn't mind it.
> 
> Thank you to the wonderful Butterfingers for gamely beta reading this chapter - it really would have been complete and utter crap without her input.


	14. Debilitated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor old Hux has a seriously rotten time in this chapter.

**Day 2 - 01.30 GST**

 

Kylo felt drunk.

 

He ignored his unsteadiness, focusing instead on Rey. As he pulled her closer, he felt an almost obscene level of happiness and knew he was truly done for.

 

They’d paced the empty corridors, stopping every now to steal a clandestine kiss or dodge the erratic weaving of mouse droids hissing their way along the gleaming passageways. Nearing his room, and eager to be sequestered within its privacy, Kylo reached out for Rey’s hand to playfully pull her along more quickly, but somehow misjudged the movement. He ended up clumsily bumping into her at a bizarre angle, knocking her towards the wall… But that didn’t explain why she was now swaying as if she were about to fall.

 

As his own balance reeled, he watched in helpless horror as she slid lifelessly down the wall in front of him, finding he was unable to move as he tried to catch her. He could barely even manage a growl of frustrated fury.

 

They both slumped to the ground, and he knew they were in serious trouble. A final thought struggled to the surface of his addled mind, and he tried to gather his evaporating consciousness to convey it through the force.

 

Mother, help!

 

________

 

**07.00 GST**

 

Hux had hardly slept at all.

 

He’d endured a new kind of abstract hell, only surfacing from his torment when a group of stormtroopers crashed into the detention suite in the early hours of the morning, making a great fuss about bringing in a couple more prisoners. He’d shouted at the traitors to let him out, with no luck; they’d merely flaunted their delight at being able to disobey him, waving cheerily and calling “byeeee!” as they left. He’d returned to bed, head throbbing, chest heavy, truly mired in wretched misery, and lay there until he'd had to finally relieve himself in that unspeakable... _thing_ at the end of his bed.

 

“Get up!” an unsympathetic, moderated voice ordered as he was prodded on the shoulder with a riot baton.

 

Groaning, he sat up, blinking in the light now flooding his cell and itching the copious growth of stubble on his jaw. General Poe fucking Dameron himself was standing just outside the door, thankfully demonstrating a respectful silence and averting his gaze as Hux’s wrists were cuffed. The stormtroopers tightened them with unnecessary force but he was too exhausted to fire off any scathing comments.

 

His dignity took another blow when he stood - his legs refused to work properly, causing him to stagger as he left the cell. Poe reached out to lightly steady him with a gentle grip to the arm; the warm touch burned like fire on ice, but Hux didn't shake it off.

 

Neither of them said a word as they made their way to the courtroom. It seemed ironic that he’d had the room built as a symbol of his rise to power, but now, less than 24 hours later, it would only signify his demise.

 

His eyes drifted over the vast, circular room and its superior design, but he grimaced as he spotted the sinister burn mark streaking the floor, the result of Kylo’s surge of power blowing all the electrics. The mangled force cage still sat ominously in the centre, a dark monument to Hux’s thwarted dreams. It all felt a lifetime ago now.

 

He was led to a seat in the middle of the room and, as his ankles were manacled to its legs, armed troopers immediately encircled him with rapacious glee. He glared at them, wondering which back-stabbing bastards were hidden behind their anonymous masks but, seconds later, his attention was ripped away by the sound of the double doors opening and his guts started to bubble with anxiety as people filtered in.

 

Climbing the steps to the stage were a handful of New Republicans who’d been off-planet when Hosnian Prime blew, as well as Poe fucking Dameron and the traitorous members of the Grand Jury who’d crowed along with him yesterday, the nauseating hypocrites. There was no sign of Phasma or Kylo Ren yet.

 

He scowled at the participants of this new farce, raising his chin in sculpted defiance. He would _not_ give them the satisfaction of bearing witness to his abject misery, even though his nerves screamed in fearful apprehension and his father’s sneering voice taunted him over and over inside his head.

 

‘ _You’re a pathetic_ _ **failure**_ _’_.

 

________

 

**07.00 GST**

 

“So, how did she get it?” Rose asked, cautiously prodding her breakfast ration with a spoon.

 

Kimgor responded in sign language.

 

Rose’s understanding of the silent communication was still a little shaky, but it was C’ai, surprisingly, that had picked it up effortlessly. Sadly, Rose couldn’t always understand him very well either.

 

“Jetta brought it in while I was asleep,” Leia said, glancing at Kimgor. “She was in such a rush, she didn’t seem to notice Kim sitting there.” Kimgor signed some more, and Leia translated, “She went straight to R2 then shot off. No one’s seen her since.”

 

“So, let me get this straight,” Finn said, frowning as he noisily crunched off a brittle bite of lemus corn stick. “Jetta managed to get hold of _Phasma’s diary,_ and has since vanished into thin air?”

 

“Pretty much,” Leia said. “I mean, it’s great news for us, don’t get me wrong. But something about it bothers me.”

 

“Do you think she’s all right?” Rose asked, inspecting the grey goop she’d spooned up, warily sticking the end of her tongue in it.

 

“I don’t know,” Leia said darkly.

 

Another platoon of soldiers filtered into the mess hall, aiming straight for the breakfast queue. Finn had already remarked on how this place was usually awash with shining white bodies but, today, many soldiers had eschewed their armour in favour of regulation ‘leisure’ fatigues. As a result, Rose and her friends didn’t stand out quite as much, although their clothes and postures were considerably shabbier and, if it wasn’t for Finn, they may not have been as well received. Their presence certainly attracted cold stares, but Finn seemed to have established a remarkable amount of goodwill - he’d been approached by many soldiers with friendly enquiries about his wellbeing after yesterday’s shooting.

 

“So, did the diary give us anything?” Rose asked.

 

“Yes!” Leia said, clasping her hands in glee. “It’s given us _everything_ \- times, dates, details, the whole lot. General Enerys has been helping us validate the information, and it all holds up.”

 

“So, it’s enough to incriminate Hux?” Finn asked.

 

Leia nodded as she finished her mouthful, then said, “His trial is about to start.”

 

Rose hoped that would mean they’d be able to leave the Finalizer soon. As she sat with Leia, Finn, Kat, Kimgor and a handful of soldiers, including Cortay, she started a mental countdown, praying to the stars they’d all be back in their ships and surfing the lanes of hyperspace by the end of the day. Her nerves were ragged - she hadn’t recovered from the shock of Finn getting shot and was still troubled by an ominous foreboding. Their invasion of the First Order had all been a bit too... _easy_.

 

Kimgor was now signing to Leia again. The poor woman had been mute since the day Hux ordered the execution of her two teenage children and she’d been forced to witness their deaths. She hated the man with a cold fury, and had sworn that she wouldn’t rest until she’d seen him destroyed, preferably in as brutal a manner as possible. Rose watched her as she communicated silently with Leia again, noting how the woman’s haunted eyes still burned with a ferocity that scared her sometimes.

 

In contrast, C’ai radiated a genial calm as he took in everyone’s chatter, gamely ignoring the questioning gazes of those unaccustomed to his Abednedo features, while young Cortay was busy talking to Finn, his eyes enlivened in barely-concealed idolatry as he recounted the near failure of the plan to sneak Rey aboard the Finalizer the day previously. Rose smiled slightly, having heard the frantic exchanges over the comm units at the time.

 

But before Cortay's tale was over, Ballie charged into the room, looking unusually flustered and dishevelled, followed closely by Mitaka, who was awkwardly adjusting the uneven angle of his hat. His chin and upper lip appeared to be smeared in lipstick.

 

“Looks like someone had a quickie this morning,” Rose commented as Ballie drew closer.

 

“Frankly, I’m surprised she found the time,” Leia muttered dryly, and Rose sniggered. Since they’d landed, Ballie seemed to have constantly been running from one place to another.

 

“General Organa,” the girl said breathlessly, as she reached the table. “May I have a word in private?”

 

“You appear to be short of breath, Ballion,” Leia teased.

 

“It’s about Rey,” Ballie continued, blushing slightly, “and, er, _Kylo Ren,_ ” she whispered conspiratorially. Rose’s ears pricked up.

 

Leia stood slowly and followed the girl to an emptier part of the hall, and Rose watched with interest as Ballie struggled to relay what she clearly considered bad news. However, everyone looked round as Leia’s raucous laughter bounced around the hall, temporarily halting the constant drone of breakfast chatter as curious gazes chased the source of unsanctioned merriment. Still laughing, Leia returned to the table and shakily sat down, followed by a very confused Ballie.

 

“What’s up?” Rose asked, frowning.

 

“It seems that my son and Rey got caught making out in one of the turbolifts last night!” she wheezed, ignoring all the horrified looks from round the table, particularly Finn’s.

 

“What d’you mean?” he grimaced, looking from Leia to Rose and back again, his jaw almost hitting the ground. “Rey and... _Kylo?_ "

 

Rose nodded, and a brief silence ensued as her dumbfounded friends processed this piece of information. “It’s been going on for a while,” she said.

 

“It has?” both Finn and Leia asked in unison.

 

“They’ve been talking telepathically, through the force,” Rose whispered.

 

“ _Really?_ ” Finn’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline, his lips drawing back in distaste. “You _knew_ about this?”

 

Rose shook her head. “I’ve only just worked it out. I think it’s been going on since Crait,” she directed at Leia, taking a bite of her corn stick and crunching on it for a moment before adding, “She really seems to care for him.”

 

Leia positively beamed. Finn looked like he was going to vomit on his rations.

 

“How _could_ she?” he cried in outrage. “I mean, _Kylo Ren!_ No offence,” he quickly added to Leia.

 

“Oh no, if we’re talking about Kylo Ren, I’m with you on that one,” Leia nodded at him. “But it would seem she sees _another_ side of him and, if it’s anything like the Ben I used to know, it can only mean something good.”

 

Rose glanced over at Cobain, who was sitting at another table, apparently lost in General Enerys’s ebony gaze, then over to Mitaka, who was stealing furtive glances in Ballie’s direction.

 

“It really is hump-a-baddie week,” she muttered to herself, hoping it wouldn’t all end in tears.

 

“I’ve seen this before,” Leia said sagely, looking at Rose and ignoring the solid clips of General Kennedy’s boots as he arrived at their table. “People look for comfort where they can during times of turbulence. History shows that the birth rate often soars whenever there’s a war.”

 

Kennedy eyed her hopefully. “Don’t even think about it,” she said sharply. He mouthed preposterously in protest, looking like a fish out of water, but quickly regained his haughty smirk.

 

“I’ve come to escort you to the Detention Suite,” he said gruffly. “General Hux’s trial is due to start.”

 

Rose really didn’t like the way he looked so pleased with himself.

 

________

 

**08.30 GST**

 

The trial had been swift.

 

Thanks to Phasma’s meticulous diarising and the indisputable fact that he’d ordered the destruction of Hosnian Prime, Armitage Hux was found guilty of mass genocide almost immediately. He'd flinched as he was sentenced to death.

 

A firing squad was to be assembled and the fusillade would take place under the supervision of the Grand Jury at 14.00 GST that day. He was granted his last wish, namely to spend his final hours in his chambers, on the condition that he was kept under armed guard at all times.

 

Leia had watched as a phalanx of stormtroopers escorted the condemned man from the courtroom, feeling neither relief nor triumph.

 

Ben’s trial had also been set, and it was to take place later that morning. She’d spoken to Grand Juror Risey and explained that her repentant son was willing to cooperate, and had been told that Kylo Ren would be given a fair trial, but she still didn’t have a good feeling about it.

 

Worryingly, Ben and Rey’s force signatures were still mute, and a creeping fear had been unsettling her since breakfast. She’d initially thought they’d closed themselves off from the force because they were busy doing...whatever they were doing, but surely they’d have come up for air by now?

 

Jetta also seemed to have disappeared, and Leia’s mounting discomfort seemed to be synchronised with Kennedy’s increasing smugness.

 

The entire galactic judiciary were here for the trials, along with most of the Resistance _and_ what was left of the New Republic – she stilled as she realised they may all have fallen prey to an elaborate tactical manoeuvre. The First Order hadn’t undertaken any hostile move to counteract the Resistance’s infiltration so far, and Leia now wondered whether they’d just been waiting for the right moment to spring their traps.

 

Sipping caf as she waited in the meeting room, she ran all the terrifying possibilities through her mind, opening to the force in search of answers but found she was unable to decipher its unspoken whispers.

 

________

 

**08.45 GST**

 

“What the _kriff_ happened in here?!”

 

The moment Hux entered his fresher, his mind shrieked with rage. The place was littered with aftershave bottles and pools of shaving foam, and towels were draped randomly over every surface like a menagerie of flaccid creatures. It was a complete, fucking _mess_. Those Resistance bastards had clearly been through his stuff and shown absolutely no consideration whatsoever.

 

He really, _really_ wasn’t in the mood for this.

 

Blasters immediately followed his movement as he dashed back into his living room. He scowled at his captors: two stormtroopers, the tall hairy monster and that hideous snouty thing. Why them again? Fuck the Resistance and fuck their shitty alien helpers.

 

His volcanic fury surged dangerously as he headed straight for a cabinet at the far end of the room. Yanking the door open, he grinned nastily at the satisfying thought that he’d give them all something to look ugly about, but froze when he saw the empty shelf - his knives had gone. What else had they taken? A cold panic washed over him as he dashed towards the sofa, throwing himself to his knees and pulling out the secret compartment.

 

His holos were still there. He very nearly sighed in relief, but terror quickly struck as he realised they weren’t in the orderly arrangement he’d left them…

 

Some sneaky little wanker had been through them. And they’d _seen._

 

A cold sweat needled his underarms as he looked round at his captors in dread – they didn’t _seem_ to be looking at him any differently, not that he’d be able to tell with that lot of fuck-faces. His mind frantically spooled back to the trial – had anyone stared at him in an odd way, as if they knew his secret? The thought was too dreadful to even contemplate.

 

Looking back down at the mess in the drawer, he picked up a random holo and held it in his hands for a moment, instantly knowing its sordid content. His panic spewed in messy bursts, stabbing his chest with helpless resignation as he realised it was too late - by now, every idiot in the First Order would know what he...what he was.

 

His father had never had any problem telling him _exactly_ what. The vile man had repeatedly bashed the weakness out of him, telling him in no uncertain terms just how _wrong_ it was, how sick, how perverted. How ashamed he was at having a son who wasn’t a ‘real man’, whom he compared unfavourably to a variety of limp, effeminate flower.

 

And now the entire bloody galaxy probably knew. The thought was worse than his impending execution.

 

Hux looked down at the scuffed disc in his shaking hand, recalling exactly _what_ Urie was doing in that recording. Unable to countenance the thought of the guards witnessing his meltdown, he threw the holo back with the others, kicked the drawer shut and stormed back into the fresher. His humiliation was complete.

 

Slamming the door and roughly shoving the ungodly mess aside with his foot, he came to a huffing, frantic halt. He didn’t know what to do. He actually felt as though he were burning, that he might spontaneously combust at any moment. As his frantic eyes darted about the room, he caught his reflection in the mirror and glared at it in a detached trance.

 

He barely recognised the stranger staring back at him. As he breathed shallow, panicked gulps, it wasn’t the rapid rise and fall of his shoulders he noticed, nor his alarming pallor, or the dark circles ghosting the space beneath his eyes. He scarcely even glanced at the three dark red streaks spanning his left cheek or the blooms of purple at his neck.

 

It was the reflection of his eyes that struck fear in him. They looked... _dead_ , devoid of any light burning behind them. Defeated and demoralised. Debilitated.

 

His brain suddenly felt like it was boiling, and he desperately needed something to blast the misery away before he finally flipped. Deciding the shower’s scorching downpour might help, he stripped with almost demented fervour and fell into its powerful jets with scant relief, clenching his eyes painfully to shut everything out.

 

The dark smoulder of Urie’s gaze instantly slipped into his mind, and wouldn’t leave.

 

It had happened months ago, but the memories were still raw. No one knew about their stolen moments in the shadows, so that made it allowable, right? Except that, while it was going on, a voice told him it was a detestable abomination. A voice that had sounded too much like his father’s.

 

And although Hux had lived for each illicit encounter, every accidental brush of a finger or lingering meeting of eyes, he’d berated and loathed himself for his aberration, his depraved fantasies. He’d inadvertently allowed himself passage on a forbidden journey, condemned his soul to the flames of eternal damnation.

 

It could only end one way. Their lips had inevitably touched, and his groan echoed around the fresher as he recalled the heat of Urie’s mouth, and how their hands had hungrily roamed each other’s bodies for the first and only time. Hux surrendered fully to the memory, reliving the immoral thrill as his fingers had wandered beneath Urie’s waistband, experiencing the same the intense jolts of desire he’d felt when he’d first discovered the hard contours of the man’s arousal.

 

Pumping himself desperately as the cascade crashed over him, his tears mingled with the torrents of water streaking his cheeks. The furious hiss of the shower’s jets muffled his choking gasps as the memory quickly pushed him over the edge and, as he climaxed in one final heartbroken, angry thrust, he leaned his forehead against the cool tiles of the wall, weeping silently as his seed washed away with the waste water. His life seemed to drain with it.

 

After that divine, no, _deplorable_ experience, he knew he’d gone too far, that it had to stop before it went any further. No one must know, _ever_. A few hushed words to Captain Tritt Opan and that was it - Urie was dead. And the following day after that, he’d ordered Phasma to kill Opan. He’d had to ensure that no one would ever know. He’d _had_ to do it.

 

Hadn’t he?

 

________

 

**08.45 GST**

 

“You’re advocating reinstating the Republic.”  


“No, I’m advocating establishing _a_ republic!” Poe said impatiently, waving his hands in frustration. “I’m suggesting a compromise – call it a union, a new galactic alliance, a democratic league...whatever you want! But it wouldn’t be the same as _the_ Republic.”

 

“Coalitions have been proven to be ineffective,” General Gheri retorted coldly. Leia could see Poe glaring at the woman with undisguised annoyance.

 

“Starting a new union is far better than two polar opposites sniping and battling for supremacy,” he sighed with an exasperated shake of his head.

 

“The Republic was intrinsically flawed,” Kennedy grumbled, muscling his way into the debate. “Reinstating anything like it would be suicide for the galaxy, a massive step backwards.”

 

“Leaving it will be far more damaging,” Leia said firmly, silencing everyone as her commanding voice crashed over them. “I appreciate that, under the Republic, some of the agreed restrictions were considered _irksome_.”

 

A rumbling assent rippled through the room, but she ploughed on, clearing her throat before raising her voice slightly. “Because of the sheer number of delegates involved, it took an age to pass new laws and, sadly, corruption was rife.” The suited generals nodded and bleated loudly in agreement.

 

“BUT!” Leia’s shout had the impact of a detonation. “By _destroying_ it, we risk setting the galaxy back _decades!_ ” she continued earnestly. _“_ In the past, all systems contributed to the funding pool, enabling the Republic to help the economic regeneration of the poorer worlds. In turn, those less well-off planets were then able to engage economically with the wealthier ones – it was a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

 

Pausing for a moment to gather her strength, she scanned the turbulent room, noting both scowls of disapproval and nods of agreement. “Policies were in place to support and promote the long-term interest of _all_ its members,” she enunciated passionately. “Environmental issues were governed centrally -”

 

“Environmental issues are specific to each system,” Grand Juror Risey interrupted. “The ‘one size fits all’ approach can’t work.”

 

“The sheer _size_ of  the environmental issues mean they affect the whole galaxy, not just individual systems,” Leia responded. “So they can _only_ be dealt with on a galactic level.”

 

“But the Republic were in favour of allowing anyone from any planet to just _barge in_ and take everyone’s jobs!” blustered a voice from the back of the room, a retired general from the days of the Empire.

 

Leia shook her head sadly, thoroughly sick of such intolerant attitudes. “No,” she said patiently. “Under the Republic, immigration worked both ways -”

 

“They’re rapists and murderers! Benefits cheats!” the woman continued obstinately.

 

“Would that be anything like the way the First Order has been raping, murdering and cheating the galaxy of its resources, its people and culture? Its freedom and justice?” Leia shot back.

 

The door suddenly hissed open, ripping through the tension in the room. Leia turned just as Ballie entered, ignoring the mounting uproar at her statement.

 

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Ballie said meekly, clearly intimidated by the volume of people in positions of power, all glaring at her with as much ill regard as possible. “Generals Dameron, Leia, may I have a word?”

 

________

 

 

**09.05 GST**

 

Leia glanced warily at Poe. She’d given orders not to be interrupted, so this couldn’t be good. They excused themselves from the meeting and followed Ballie out into the corridor, waiting for the door to slide closed before saying anything.

 

“Ballion?” Leia prompted, when she deemed it safe to talk.

 

“Cobe heard from one of the comms operators that, last night, Kennedy ordered a gas attack on Rey and Kylo.”

 

“’ _Gas_ attack’?” Leia spluttered. “What kind of gas?”

 

“The sort that can knock a Jedi out. Cortay told us they’re being kept in a continuously unconscious state in the prison cells.”

 

“What the…?” Poe mouthed, looking from one to the other in horror.

 

Leia wobbled slightly; Poe steadied her without hesitation, asking if she was all right. She nodded dismissively, needing to shake off her light-headedness in order to focus. Her fears might be proven right, after all. What in Malachor was Kennedy playing at? Was he making a play for power? How much support did he have behind him?

 

“OK,” she said slowly, closing her eyes as she desperately gripped the coat tails of a fledgling plan, before it vanished. “I’ll finish talking to that lot in there, then I’ll deal with that slimy shit, Kennedy, find out what he’s up to. Are you OK with that, Poe?” she asked, feeling short of breath as she opened her eyes to look at him. He nodded quickly. “Do you have any ideas?”

 

He mouthed wordlessly for a second, then stopped. His cheeks puffed out, quickly deflating as he blew out a helpless exhalation, shaking his head.

 

“Well, I have one,” Leia said urgently. Turning to Ballie, she said, “My son’s due to go on trial in less than two hours, so I think they’ll keep him asleep til then, and I think they’ve knocked Rey out as much to prevent her rescuing him as to disable our prime source of power. If that’s the case, then all hell’s going to break loose.”

 

She stopped to pull in a shaky breath. “Ballion, please talk to Finn, find out just how much muscle we’ve got on our side so far. If _any_ of the stormtroopers have even the _slightest_ intention of supporting us, we need them. And ask Cobain to get his sweetheart to find out whether any officers are willing to help.”

 

The young woman nodded, tapping her orders furiously into her datapad. “Tell Cortay to get some soldiers together to go down to the cells,” Leia continued. “We must get Ben and Rey away from whatever’s keeping them unconsciousness. We need to _get them out_ ,” she stressed.

 

Leia paused to allow Ballie to finish entering all her commands, feeling her chest tighten uncomfortably. “Get the word out,” she said gravely, with a slight waver to her voice. “And put all of our people on full alert.”

 

Looking down at the datapad clutched tightly in Ballie’s hands, Leia noticed two droplets of water streaking down its shiny black surface, and her heart lurched in sympathy. She sighed, placing her hands on the young girl’s tense shoulders. “You’ve been through worse than this, Ballion,” she said softly but firmly. Ballie sniffed wetly and nodded, quickly wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand before looking up. Leia pursed her lips in an approximation of a smile, knowing that the girl was fearful of what might happen to her lover - a feeling that had never stopped plaguing Leia during the tumultuous days of the Empire, when she’d worried endlessly about Han.

 

Dismissing Ballie, she drew in a deep breath and leant against a wall to steady herself. As the girl’s light footsteps faded into the distance, she felt her soul sink as she desperately reached out to the force. She needed strength and guidance for whatever was going to come next.

 

“Poe,” she said, looking at the frowning general. “We need Chewbacca, he’s guarding Hux at the moment. I also need to find out if Hux knows anything about this plot – was it part of a plan, or an impromptu improvisation? I’d like you to go to him and find out. Also, see if you can get _anything_ about this ‘ _Jedi gas_ ’ – how harmful is it, can the effects be reversed, how long does it take to wear off...that sort of thing.”

 

Poe nodded, straightening up to leave. “That man’s about as enchanting as a rathtar,” Leia continued, “but he didn’t look in good shape this morning and it may mean he’s more susceptible to... _persuasion_.” Poe raised his eyebrows in question.

 

“Do whatever you feel you need to get this information.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My very abbreviated discussion about the Republic is basically a dig at Brexit, which is really pissing me off. I could have gone on and on about it, but didn't want to bore you to death...
> 
> Thanks for reading if you've made it this far!
> 
> Big thanks to Butterfingers for beta reading this long chapter.


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